LITR 3731: Creative Writing
Student Fiction Submission 2005

Jennifer Jones

April 4, 2005

Water Fairy

Chapter 1

            Morgen Shanley didn’t think she was ever going to fit in.  She had been in Ireland for three weeks, and she still couldn’t figure out how to plug her hair dryer into the crazy outlet.  Hoping her hair dried before she got to school, Morgen looked through her microscopic closet to search for the perfect outfit that didn’t exist.  Finally deciding on a blue long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, she turned to her full-length mirror while she dressed. 

Morgen studied her reflection.  She could ignore that she wasn’t exactly gorgeous with her freckles and waif-like figure, and that she had absolutely no friends, but when she found out her name is actually a boy’s name, it was all too much for her. 

Not only isn’t Morgen a girl’s name, but it also isn’t Irish.  Apparently, it’s a big deal if you’re Irish and you don’t have an Irish name. 

She thought back to her first day at her new Irish high school.  As soon as she was introduced to the class, the kids all snickered.  Morgen had no idea what was so funny until later that day as she attempted to enter the girls’ restroom.  A girl, later revealed to be Selia Banning, shoved her way in front of Morgen, blocking the path into the restroom.

“Just where do you think you’re going? This is the girl’s lavatory, and it’s only for Irish girls,” Selia said.

Morgen was surprised.  She didn’t know how to respond.  Surely Selia knew Morgen was a girl.  What was her deal? 

“Did you hear what I said?” Selia boomed as she took a small step toward Morgen.

“Yes,” Morgen answered timidly.  She could smell Selia’s rancid breath and was dimly aware of a crowd of girls collecting behind her.

            Selia put her hands on her hips to appear larger than Morgen, and to fill more of the doorway. 

            “You can use that lavatory.” Selia motioned with her head to the door on her left. 

            Morgen responded, “But that’s the boy’s bathroom.  There’s boys in there.”

            “Well, with a name like yours, you should feel right at home then shouldn’t you?”

            Morgen couldn’t believe her ears. 

            “What do you mean? What’s wrong with my name?”

            “It’s a boy’s name.” Selia sneered.

            “So?”

            “So, you must be a boy if your name’s Morgen, and if you’re a boy, then you can’t enter the girl’s lavatory.  We don’t want any Peeping Toms in here.  Now, get away from here or I’ll report you for peeping!” Selia advanced even closer to Morgen.  Morgen slinked away nervously.  Selia was big and scary and Morgen wanted no part of her.

It was never like this in Miami, Morgen thought as she crossed the room to gather her books.  No one cared if your name was actually a boy’s name, and they definitely didn’t care if your name wasn’t Irish.  In fact, there were several girls in Miami with the same name.  Their names were spelled M-O-R-G-A-N, so she didn’t fit in there either, but she was thankful she had the presence of mind to tell her new teacher that she went by Morgen, her middle name, rather than her first name.  It was best that the Irish teenagers didn’t find out her first name was Gwenhwyfar.  If they ever did, she could put any plans of friendship out of her mind forever.  Gwenhwyfar was also a Welsh name, not Irish, and it was too weird for her to ever mention it to anyone. 

            Morgen hated Ireland.  She loved Florida.  It was sunny and warm in Miami, and the beach was always so inviting and full of life.  She had always felt a strong pull toward the water.  The only water around here was a small lake about a mile down the dirt road.  Morgen thought about trekking down there just to pretend she was in Miami, but imagining a warm, sunlit beach with white sands was going to be difficult when the sky was overcast and the shore was filled with tall green weeds.  

            “Gwenhwyfar! Ya’ll be late!”

            Morgen snapped back to reality.  In no hurry to get to school, she was sitting at her desk in front of her small mirror, brushing her hair. 

It was Finola, her grandmother, calling.  She insisted on addressing her by that name!  Morgen told her not to call her that, but Finola refused to listen.  She said that her son, Morgen’s father, had given her that name and that she should be proud of it.  It didn’t matter that no one, including her father, ever called her that. 

Morgen got up from her desk and crossed the room to her closet to get her shoes.  Finola was so strange, Morgen thought, as she laced up her tennis shoes.  She was never going to understand this peculiar woman.  It was difficult to picture them being related at all.  Morgen was small with delicate features, while Finola was tall and statuesque. 

However, this wasn’t what was so odd.  What was strange about Finola was that she was so superstitious and acted extremely bizarre most of the time.  Morgen sat against her closet door and thought about the first day she arrived.  She had wanted to go for a walk and look around her new home, and Finola said she could as long as she didn’t eat any berries that she found.  Morgen asked why and Finola answered matter-of-factly, “Well, because it’s after Halloween, of course!”  Morgen must have looked confused because Finola huffed and said, “For cryin’ out loud girl!  Don’t tell me yer father didn’t explain about the fairies!”  She went on to add, “Gwenhwyfar, yer never to eat any berries after Halloween.  It doesn’t matter if they’re blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, boysenberries or any other kind of berries ya might stumble across around here.  Do ya understand that?”

            “Why not?” Morgen had inquired; thinking a couple of berries just might hit the spot right about then.

            “Because of the fairies, of course!! Are ya daft girl, or don’t ya listen?”

            Morgen had stared at Finola, baffled.  This was the first occasion when Morgen thought maybe she had stumbled into an alternate reality.  What was Finola talking about?  Finola went on to explain that the fairies piss on the berries after Halloween and she had personally made it a firm rule never to so much as step on a berry, lest she track the contaminated juices into her house. 

            In addition to this weirdness, Finola kept bells on every entrance to the small cottage, including the windows.  In Miami, Morgen had only seen bells hung on convenience store entrances.  The bells are used to alert the clerk that a customer was entering the store.  Morgen had always found those bells to be annoying, and Finola’s bells were worse.  Not only did the bells ring when the door opened and closed, they rang with the wind.  From all the racket those bells made, Morgen felt like she was in a bell factory. 

On Morgen’s third day with Finola, the ringing bells were driving her insane.  She was sporting the headache from Hell and decided to take care of those bells, once and for all.  She found out very quickly, however, the real reason for the bells when she decided to remove their ringers.  Huge mistake.  The second Finola realized the bells were not ringing, she completely freaked out.  It turned out that fairies fear the ringing bells.  If one is trying to enter the house, the bell will scare it away.  Morgen had simply rolled her eyes, went to her room, and spent the rest of the day with her head buried under her pillow. 

“Gwenhwyfar! Don’t ya come when yer called?”

Morgen shook out of her daydream, stood up, grabbed her books, then walked into the tiny kitchen to see her grandmother leaning her face into a pot of oatmeal, or porridge to the Irish.  It didn’t matter what the stuff was called; Morgen wasn’t going to eat it. 

            “You’re going to burn your face,” Morgen said.

            “Damned Pot Pixies are determined to ruin me stovetop.  Can’t take any chances.”  Finola never removed her eyes from the pot. 

            Morgen rolled her eyes and walked to the door.

            “Where do ya think yer going?  Ya haven’t eaten.” Finola turned toward Morgen, forgetting about the oatmeal.  She hadn’t eaten a thing since she arrived, unless you count those airplane sunflower seeds that she hoarded and had been nibbling on everyday. 

            “To school,” Morgen responded.  She chose to ignore the subject of eating.

            “Gwenhwyfar, I haven’t see ya eat a thing in three weeks.  Sit down at the table and eat, lass,” Finola ordered, pointing her crooked finger at the small wooden table that looked at least a hundred years old. 

            Morgen looked around Finola to the stove, “Your pot’s boiling over.”

            Finola turned abruptly and found that her shiny white stovetop was covered in bubbling oatmeal that was beginning to crust and burn around the edges.  She began shrieking in Gaelic frantically trying to keep the mushy brown cereal from overflowing even more. 

Morgen took this chance to try running out the door, but the jingling bells gave her away.

            “WAIT!” Finola bellowed.  “SIT!”

            Morgen turned, sighed and slumped down into a chair.   

            “Yer going to eat, lass.  Yer father may have let ya go for weeks without eating, but that’s not going to happen here.  Yer thin as a rail.”  Finola placed a hot, steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of Morgen.  “Now then, go on and eat your porridge.”

            Morgen did her best to keep from gagging at the site of the brown mush.  “Don’t you have any granola?” Morgen asked. 

            Finola gave her a look of confusion. “What do ya mean?”

            “You know, granola.  It’s rectangular and comes in a package. It’s held together with honey,” Morgen hoped.  She dared not ask about strawberries.

            “What are ya talking about?” Finola stood with her hands on her hips.  It was clear to Morgen that Finola did not have granola.  In fact, Finola had no clue what Morgen was talking about at all.

            “Nevermind,” Morgen answered, looking down at the bowl of hot pulpy mush.  It looked like something a cat would hack up.  It smelled even worse.  She picked up her spoon, took a deep breath and dug in.  Finola stood and watched to make sure she took a bite. Morgen held the overflowing spoon in front of her face.  Her hand began to shake.  The oatmeal started to ooze over one side of the spoon.  As it did, she felt a lump rising in her throat and tried to suppress it, but as the spoon got closer to her mouth, the lump seemed to climb higher until finally there was no way Morgen could even place the spoon in her mouth without getting sick all over the table.  She quickly put the loaded spoon back into the bowl.

            “What’s the matter?  Why won’t ya eat?” Finola questioned with concern in her voice. 

            “I’m just not hungry,” Morgan answered, pushing the bowl away from her.  “Can I please go?” 

            “Wait, I have a gift for ya,” Finola turned to a little wooden box on a shelf above the stove.  She opened it and brought out what looked like a brown, beaded necklace.  She turned smiling and offered the necklace to her.

            “I made this for ya last night.  I thought ya might like it.” Finola said.  She held a look of anticipation in her eyes.

            Morgen rose from the chair and approached Finola to accept the gift.  The necklace was not exactly Morgen’s style, in fact it was hideous, but she felt she had no other choice but to accept the gift. 

            “Oh,” Morgen smiled forcefully, “thank you so much Finola.”

            “I’ve told ya to call me Grandmother. Yer too young to call me Finola, and I’m too old to be anything but Grandmother.” Finola helped Morgen put the necklace on. 

            Once it was on, Morgen noticed an unpleasant aroma floating up from the necklace.  Her nose tingled, and she sneezed.  Morgen tried desperately not to breathe. 

            “What’s the matter?” Finola inquired, no longer smiling.

            “Ub, dothing,” Morgen answered. 

            “Why aren’t ya breathing?” Finola’s eyebrows came together.

            “I yab.” Morgen breathed through her mouth, closing her nose off.  “See?”

            Finola crossed her arms.  “What is it?” She pressed.

            “What is dis decklace bade frob?” Morgen asked, her eyes began to water.

            “Peony seeds on a linen string that I made meself from flax,” Finola answered, she was beginning to appear irritated. 

            “Why does it sbell?” Morgen had noticed the flax all over the floor of the cottage, and had no clue about its purpose; she had not gotten a whiff of any kind of stench rising up from the floor so it couldn’t possibly be the string. 

            “It doesn’t!” Finola straightened.  She was clearly offended by Morgen’s lack of appreciation for the necklace.  “I made that for ya out of love! I wanted to give ya something to welcome ya to me home, and yer going to wear it!  Peony seeds will protect ya from the fairies.  I’ll not have ya kidnapped! I’ll never get my son back, but I got ya and I’ll not have ya walking around this countryside unprotected!”

            This got Morgen’s attention.  Her jaw dropped, and she forgot about holding her nose. “Kidnapped? Unprotected? You’ve never been to Miami have you?”

            “No, I haven’t.  Ya never should have been either!  As long as yer wearing that when ya leave the house, ya won’t be disappearing again.” 

            “What do you mean again?  I was born in Miami.  I have never been to Ireland before, in fact, I never even knew you existed before Dad died.”  Morgen was completely puzzled over this announcement.

            “I don’t know what yer dad told ya, but ya ought to know ya have been to Ireland.  In fact, ya were born here.  And ya don’t have to throw in my face that me own son didn’t tell his daughter I existed.  Believe me, if I knew then, what I know now, ya never would have even been born.”  Finola turned around and began feverishly working on her mucky stovetop.

            Morgen felt as though she had been hit.  There was a tightening in her chest as she turned toward the door.  Grabbing the handle, she ripped the jingling door open and darted from the cottage. 

            She heard Finola calling her name from the doorway, but she was not going to stop running.  Before she could prevent them, the hot tears began to cloud her vision.  She ran and ran as frenzied thoughts burst through her mind.  Her father never spoke to her like this.  He was always kind, always caring.  Why did he have to leave the house that day?  After her dance recital, he made a special trip for Morgen’s favorite dessert, cool peaches topped with honey and poppy seeds. 

Morgen missed her dancing.  When she danced, she felt free.  She was able to shut the world out, immersing herself in the movements.  It was hypnotizing.  She could close her eyes and imagine herself in a meadow at midnight surrounded by tall grass and flowers.  Firefly flashes competing with the stars while Morgen spun around and around.  She always felt as though she were flying.  It was the most glorious feeling. 

Morgen stopped running and bent over with her hands on her knees while she caught her breath.  Subsisting on airplane sunflower seeds for three weeks has drained her energy.  After calming down some, she took a look at her surroundings, and almost lost her breath again.  Without realizing where she was running, she discovered she’d run to the lake and it was stunning.  Not at all like she thought it would be.  There were flowers all around.  Bluebells, clover, elderberry (steer clear of those), foxglove, lilac, poppies, and primroses surrounded the lake.  Being that it was late November, these flowers should not be in bloom right now.  Morgen pondered this mystery until she noticed a huge boulder the size of a small car a little ways down the shore on her left.  She approached the rock and noticed it was surrounded by heather and silverweed.

Most girls her age couldn’t tell a snapdragon from a chrysanthemum, but Morgen could.  She had always taken a special interest in nature, especially plants.  Her garden at home was filled with some of the flowers she saw here.  The garden was one area where Morgen and her father always disagreed because he felt she spent way too much time babying her flowers.  She would sit for hours and talk to the flowers, just like they were little people.  If her father had had his way, their yard would have been gravel.  

Lazily, she grabbed a few sprigs of silverweed.

“No peonies here.” Morgen muttered.  She climbed onto the boulder and sat looking at the lake.  She sniffed her small bouquet.

Her stomach growled as she thought about her situation.  Fifteen years old and stuck in Ireland with a crazy woman.  Suddenly she remembered the stinky necklace.  It had gotten lost under her shirt while she was running.  Morgen grabbed the necklace and yanked, spilling peony seeds all over the boulder and tossing the linen string into the lake.  Some of the seeds, however, managed to fall into her bra.

“Great.” Morgen sighed.  She tugged at her shirt and bra trying, fruitlessly, to get the seeds to fall out. 

Morgen began to feel furious, and pounded a fist into the boulder. 

“Ow!” Morgen yelped as she shook the pain from her hand.  First emotional pain, then physical, this is just too much, Morgen thought.

She wondered how Finola could ever say that to her?  At first, Morgen just thought Finola was strange, but it was becoming apparent that she was also cruel.  As soon as she found out she had a living relative, Morgen was so excited she couldn’t contain herself.  She didn’t even know her mother before she died, and her father was not really very good at girl stuff, so, as a result Morgen craved female companionship and guidance.  Morgen wanted someone that could help her understand what it was to become a woman.  Finola seemed like the perfect person.  Well, so much for that fantasy. 

Morgen may have to live with Finola, but she did not have to like her.  Only three years, then she could be on her own.  Actually, Morgen thought, she was already on her own, it just wasn’t legal yet. 

As she was considering her screwed up life while she sat on the boulder, Morgen absently picked at the silverweed, putting the petals and roots into her mouth, chewing and swallowing them. 

After this episode with Finola, Morgen didn’t want to go to school now.  She was not in the mood to deal with Selia.  It would be lovely to stay here forever and never have to leave this rock.  The lake was peaceful, almost hypnotizing.  The water mirrored the clouds in the sky with only soft ripples from the wind disturbing the surface.  Morgen breathed in the fresh fragrant air, and noticed her stomach no longer rumbled.  She looked down to see what was left of the silverweed in bits and pieces on the rock.  Morgen licked her lips. 

“Huh, I ate silverweed,” Morgen said to herself, half-smiling.  “It wasn’t so bad either. I’ll have to remember this next time Finola serves oatmeal.” 

Morgen decided, as much as she hated the idea, she’d better go to school.  There’s no reason to let Finola, or Selia for that matter, ruin her education.  That is, if she ever wanted to leave this island.  She hopped off the rock. 

Fiction Account

            This work, Water Fairy, began germinating over the Christmas holidays.  I had been reading the Harry Potter series and a thought quite suddenly entered my head.  For the most part, males read fantasy and it makes sense that writers would gear these types of stories toward males by offering a male hero that young men can relate to.  I wanted something that young girls could relate to.  Something that was a fantasy, but did not include princesses (card carrying damsels in distress), knights in shining armor, and castles.  I thought there should be a young adult fantasy series about a girl.  Although, while a series sounds good in theory, when it comes down to it, it is a little daunting.  Therefore, I am just shooting for a novel.  As I have a love for fairies, it seemed natural that I start there.  I searched the Internet and I delved into my numerous fairy books and came up with an idea based on the myth of the Gwragedd Annwn (pronounced Gwrageth Anoon). 

            The Gwragedd Annwn are Welsh water fairies that sometimes take human males as husbands.  These fairies live under the surface of a lake that is only accessed on New Year’s morning through a door that appears on a rock next to the lake.  There is a story about a mortal man who fell in love with a water fairy and they married.  According to the legend, if he hits her three times, then she would be forced to return home.  Another story is about mortals that are allowed to enter the underwater village as long as they do not take anything with them when they leave.  In this story, someone pockets a flower and the second he steps foot outside the door he falls unconscious.  I took pieces of these Welsh legends and transplanted them to Ireland, one of those places I have always dreamed of going.  How would being in Ireland change the stories?  I also wondered what would happen if, rather than live on the husband’s land, the married couple lived in the underwater fairy village and had a baby. What would happen if he decided the fairy world is not what he really wanted and left, taking the baby with him?  A baby would be considerably more valuable than a flower, so he should have a much harsher punishment – death maybe?  I wanted this to be the baby’s story though, so I had to get him out of there and kept alive long enough to get her, Morgen, mostly grown.  Therefore, his mother, Finola, is a witch.  She can put a protection spell over him that will last long enough to get him and Morgen out of Ireland and into the U. S.  Eventually, the spell has to falter, though, or he will not die and Morgen will not have a reason to return to Ireland and unlock the mystery of her life.  Essentially, my story involves unraveling this mystery.  Why is she so different?  Why does she know flowers inside and out, an unusual trait for a normal 15-year-old?  There are many other questions I could list here, but the basic idea is there.  In addition to the fairy element, there is also Morgen’s human side.  She is a teenager with typical teenage misconceptions about life.  These will be dealt with in the novel as well. 

            So I sat down and started making notes about what I wanted my characters to be like.  What are their names?  What do they look like?  Then I went on and wrote down, briefly, some of the action scenes I would like to see happen.  When I actually started typing, my first words were exactly what they currently are at the beginning of the story.  “Morgen Shanley didn’t think she was ever going to fit in.”  I wanted something that would suck the reader in.  Being an avid reader, I know it is always nice when starting to read a new book, that you become enthralled immediately.  That is the reaction I wanted for my story. 

After presenting my fiction in class, I felt very encouraged to continue on with writing the rest of the story.  The class was very honest and forthright in their opinions concerning my work.  Sherry questioned the issue of the names that are discussed at the beginning of the novel.  Now that I have given away that Morgen’s mother is a Welsh water fairy, that narrative bit may make a little more sense.  I am trying to create a world in which, due to the presence of the Welsh fairies, the names would be an issue for some of the characters.  In addition, Dr. White was concerned over the suddenness of Morgen’s grandmother, Finola, calling her to breakfast after all the flashbacks at the beginning.  He was not sure where Morgen was or what she was doing.  If he was not sure, then other readers may have the same trouble.  I hope I have fixed that problem.  I inserted some narrative material at the beginning and throughout to, hopefully, string it together a bit better.  Rather than just drop the reader into the world immediately, I have set up Morgen’s whereabouts in the room from the beginning and I keep tying back to it throughout the scene as Morgen has daydreams and flashbacks.  Basically, she’s getting dressed for school, but the reader is getting a lot of background information at the same time.  Another change I made came from my realization that the story is taking place after Halloween, but before New Year’s Day.  This being late fall/early winter, flowers are usually not blooming during this time.  I felt I should mention the contrast in the season and blooming flowers in the scene where Morgen discovers the lake.

I am definitely going to finish this piece.  I have already completed chapters two and three, and I have started brainstorming on chapter four.  Since this piece is part of a much larger work, there is still a multitude of ideas, which need to be incorporated before it will be completed. 

My goal for this piece is eventual publication.  I am very determined to finish it.  As far as wanting to know what to do for this manuscript that I cannot quite do yet, I do not know.  There is so much to learn, and I have already learned so much about character development, setting, plot, etc.  I just hope that whoever looks at my work will be honest and tell me truly what they think, whether their opinion is good or bad.  If there is something I am missing, I want to know.  If there is something I should be doing, but I am weak at, I want to know what it is so I can address the issue and create the best work of fiction possible.

(additional chapters from Water Fairy)

Chapter 2

            It was lunchtime and since Morgen had no lunch, she decided to sit in the library and read for half an hour.  The library also seemed like a safe place to avoid Selia Banning.  For some reason, Selia did not seem like the reading type.

She had chosen a book on gardening in the hopes that she could create a little flowerbed at Finola’s house.  Her favorite flower of all was heather, but her father had never permitted her to have it.  Heather blooms look like miniature cups.  When she was little, she used to imagine a tiny tea party with her dolls using the next-door neighbor’s heather blooms as the teacups.  Morgen was thinking of getting some heather for her garden when she heard a girl’s voice say, “You may have trouble getting anything to grow here.”

Morgen looked up to see a pleasant looking girl with strawberry blonde curls and a round face standing over her. 

“Why?” Morgen pondered.

“Because it rains too much here.  In fact, you’ll be lucky to get anything to grow.  Except maybe mold.” The girl sat down next to Morgen and extended her hand, “Hi, I’m Glenda.”

She shook her hand, “I’m Morgen.”

“Yea, I know,” Glenda smiled. “So, are you into flowers then?”

“Yes, they’re beautiful.  I thought Ireland was covered in grass. You know, Emerald Isle.”  Morgen began to feel uncomfortable.  She wondered why this girl was talking to her.  Was she going to make fun of her too?  Call her a bookworm or a freak? She closed the gardening book, and began to fidget in her seat.  She looked around the library as her knee began to bob up and down.  She looked back at Glenda.  Why was Glenda being nice to her?

“Yes, this is the Emerald Isle, but good luck seeing any flowers around here,” Glenda sighed.  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this village is covered in mud.”

“Not completely,” Morgen slipped.  Darn.  She had promised herself she’d keep the lake a secret.  It was going to be her private place.  Oh well, so much for that.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s this lake.  It’s surrounded by flowers.  Beautiful flowers in all directions.  Some of them aren’t supposed to be there,” Morgen explained. 

“Oh, right. I know where that is,” Glenda said, nodding.  “No one ever goes there unless they’re invited by Selia.  It’s her mother’s land.  It’s been in their family for ages.” 

“Oh,” Morgen felt crushed.  She had hopes of going there again.  Selia was a horrible girl; she’d never let Morgen visit the lake.  “So, are you friends with Selia?”

Glenda shuddered. “Of course not!  She’s a disgusting cow! That was horrible what she did to you the other day.  I mean, what difference does it make that you have a boy’s name?  Honestly, no one cares about that stuff except her and that lack wit Alyson Vaughn.”

“Which one is she?” Morgen felt a little deflated that Glenda thought she had a boy’s name, but at the same time didn’t want to show how relieved she was that everyone didn’t hate her. 

“She’s the pillowcase that follows Selia around.  Blonde.” 

“Oh yeah.  I saw her.  She sounds like a baboon when she laughs,” Morgen smiled.

“No doubt!” Glenda laughed. “Hey, you want to come ‘round my house this afternoon? My mum’s making rhubarb fool today.  She always makes too much and lets my brother and me stuff ourselves.”

“Ok. Sure. Wait… what is rhubarb fool?” Morgen cringed inside.  She hoped “fool” wasn’t Irish for disgusting.

“It’s like American pudding.  Sort of like a custard.  You dip biscuits, I mean cookies, into it.  It’s delicious!  Really! And you’ll get to meet my brother,” Glenda added.

“Oh! How old is he?” Morgen asked.  She imagined a cute little curly headed preschooler.

“He’s 17.  He’s going to UCD next year and he thinks he’s totally mature, but he’s totally wrong.” Glenda rolled her eyes.

“What’s UCD?” Morgen asked.

“University College Dublin.  He’s getting top points so he’ll probably get a scholarship or something,” Glenda shrugged.  “So will you come?”

She thought it would be wonderful to go to Glenda’s house.  She had never received many invitations before and coupled with the thought of not going back to Finola’s immediately after school seemed like more than Morgen could hope for.  She accepted.

“Great!” Glenda shouted.  A glare and a shush from the librarian had both girls in silent giggles as they got up and left the library to head back to class. 

Later, during French, Morgen’s last class of the day, the students were given an assignment, in which they were to translate Dr. Seuss’ Hop on Pop into French.  Morgen was tackling the assignment one word at a time when someone tapped her hard on the shoulder.  She looked up into the fierce brown eyes of Selia. 

“Give me your pen,” Selia murmured.

Morgen looked at her pen and back at Selia.

“My pen?” she asked.

“Yea, your pen,” Selia demandingly thrust out her hand. 

Feeling empowered by her newly found friendship with Glenda, Morgen responded defiantly, “No. Get your own pen.”  She turned back to her assignment. 

Just then, the teacher, Mrs. Armande, looked up and asked in a thick Parisian accent, “Miss Banning, what is going on here?  Why are you not translating?”

Selia turned toward the teacher and innocently replied, “I’m sorry, Miss.  I was just about finished with my translation when the new student took my pen.  I kindly asked her to please return it, Miss, but she said no and that if I wanted my pen back, I was going to have to announce to the class…  No, I’m sorry, Miss, but I can’t say it. I’ll go back to my desk and finish my translation for homework.”  Selia sighed deeply and turned sullenly toward her chair, which was two seats behind Morgen’s.

“Selia Banning, stop right there and tell me what was said,” Mrs. Armande said as she stood up from her desk.

Selia turned slowly and with a melodramatic look said, “All right Miss, if you insist, but I’ve warned you that it is really nasty.  She said that I would have to say that French is a dull language and that all citizens of France are thick oafs.”  Selia looked at Morgen and said, “How can you make me say such a thing.  I love the French language, and Mrs. Armande is French herself! You’re a mean, spiteful girl Morgen!”  Selia turned around again to go to her desk, but as she did she caught Morgen’s eyes and winked. 

Morgen was mortified.  With wide eyes, she looked at Mrs. Armande, awaiting her assessment of the situation.  Mrs. Armande looked at her as though daggers shot from her eyes.  And then, without even asking for Morgen’s side of the story, Mrs. Armande pointed to the door and roared, “OUT!” 

“But,” Morgen stammered.

“Now! I do not want to see you in my classroom! You will spend your last class in the hallway until further notice. Now, go!”

“Mrs. Armande, I didn’t tell Selia that,” Morgen faltered.

“The only thing I want to hear from you is your footsteps as you leave my class!”

Morgen, with tears welling in her eyes, packed up her things and walked toward the door.  Before she could reach the door, Mrs. Armande grabbed Morgen’s pen from her and said, “You won’t be needing this.” 

Morgen went outside the classroom and sat on the floor in the hallway.  No longer able to hold back the tears, they poured forth for the second time that day.  I want to go home, she thought, I want my dad.  Morgen’s dad could always fix everything.  It never failed.  He had always been there for her, but not anymore.  He wouldn’t ever be there again. 

Morgen tried to console herself in the way her dad would have done.  She wiped her face with her sleeve, stood up and told herself, “This is nothing.  I will not let her get to me.  Selia Banning is not going to ruin things for me.  I’m going to Glenda’s today, and I’m going to have a good time.”  She took a deep breath.

Just then, Mrs. Armande walked out of the classroom.  A trickle of fear ran down Morgen’s back.  What was the teacher going to say? 

“Miss Shanley,” Mrs. Armande began, “I want you to know that I will not tolerate misconduct in my classroom.  We are here to learn, not cause a disturbance.  I am sure this change has been difficult for you, but that is no excuse for such a display.  Now, you may come back into the classroom and spend the remainder of the day with your head on your desk.  You will have to finish your translation for homework.” 

This is exactly how Morgen spent the rest of class.  With her head on her desk, she had time to think and ponder how she would exact revenge on Selia.  Morgen wasn’t usually one to seek vengeance, but there was a first time for everything, and Morgen was suddenly feeling very vengeful.

She thought of starting a rumor about Selia.  A really evil rumor that would totally disgust people, like that she chewed her toenails or that she had facial hair.  Those could be easily proven wrong, though.  No, she needed something better.  It had to be something really vicious. 

Cringing with the sound of the ringing bell, Morgen sat up and realized it was time to go.  She would have to make plans for Selia later because right now she was going to look for Glenda.  A brief thought of letting Finola know where she was going to be passed in then out of her head without much consideration.  She knew she should tell Finola, but she didn’t want to. 

Morgen walked out of the school building, and saw Glenda standing next to a tree, waving.  Morgen smiled and waved back, then half jogged toward her.

“You ready?” Glenda asked.

“Yep.”

They walked to Glenda’s house, chattering the entire way.  Morgen found out that she and Glenda like the same music and movies.  Glenda was totally in love with Frankie Muniz.

“Wait until you see my room,” she said. “He’s everywhere!”  Glenda smiled. 

They turned into a small yard that was in front of a two-story house. It’s lovely, Morgen thought. 

“Well,” Glenda said, “here we are. Come on in and meet Mum.”

The girls walked through the door into a bright hallway.  Morgen began to feel nervous.  She wondered if Glenda’s mom would like her. 

“Mum’s probably back here. Come on.” Glenda led the way down the hall into a large open kitchen where a woman stood chopping carrots.

“Hey Mum. This is Morgen Shanley.  She’s new here and she’s American,” Glenda leaned forward a bit as she said that last word.  Her mother looked up sharply and Morgen could instantly see the resemblance between her and Glenda.  They had the same round face and shoulder-length strawberry blonde curls.  Glenda’s mom, however, was older and slightly plumper. She put down the knife, wiped her hands on her apron and walked around the counter to the girls, smiling.

“Well, hello Morgen,” she said as she held out her hand. “Goodness, that’s an odd name for a girl, don’t you think?  I’m Eilene Lawler.  How are you liking Ireland then? Are you adjusting ok? What part of the states are you from?  How is it you came to be in Ireland?  Are you Irish? What is your mother’s name? Do I know her?”  Morgen shook hands with her in a state of awe.  So many questions in so little time. 

“Mum! Slow down, you’ll scare her off.” Glenda gave Morgen an apologetic look.

Just then, Morgen heard the front door open and close.

“That’s probably your brother,” Mrs. Lawler said. “He’ll be wanting some fool.” She turned toward the refrigerator. “I’ve made too much.” She pulled a colossal-size bowl from the refrigerator and placed it on the table.

“Griffin! I’ve made too much rhubarb fool again! Come have some!” Mrs. Lawler bellowed as she spooned the concoction into small bowls.  “Sit down girls, you’re going to have some too.”  She motioned toward the table, and Morgen and Glenda sat down next to each other.

“You’re going to love this stuff Morgen.  It’s prime!” Glenda said, as Mrs. Lawler placed what looked like sugar cookies on the table.  Glenda eagerly grabbed a cookie and dipped it into her bowl of fool. 

Morgen watched curiously and felt a wave of nausea rising in her throat.  Oh no, she thought, please not now.  She decided to try ignoring the nausea and picked up a cookie, dipped it into her own bowl, and lifted it to her mouth.  Just as she closed her teeth around the fool-covered cookie and bit off a piece, Griffin walked into the kitchen.  Upon seeing him, a radiant shimmer ran through Morgen’s stomach competing with the nausea.

“Oh, Griff, this is Morgen, my new friend from school,” Glenda said. “Morgen, this is Griffin, my totally immature big brother.”

“Hey,” Griffin said with a nod of his head as he sat down at the table.  Morgen stopped chewing and blinked.  Griffin looked nothing like Glenda and Mrs. Lawler.  He was tall with short dark hair.  He had dyed the tips of his hair blue.  It was the same shade of blue that matched his brilliant blue eyes sparkling like two perfect sapphires.  He was gorgeous and Morgen could not take her eyes off of him as she sat there with a mouth full of cookie and fool. 

Glenda nudged Morgen’s arm, then Morgen tossed her cookies all over the table. Literally. 

“Ughh!” Glenda and Griffin both jumped out of their chairs and away from the table in a flash.  Morgen continued to retch bits and pieces all over the place.  She recognized cookie and silverweed among other unidentified materials.

“Oh dear me!” Mrs. Lawler could be heard in between heaves as she ran to and fro with a dishtowel. 

After what felt like an eternity of spewing, Morgen’s stomach finally stopped expelling liquids.  She took several deep breaths and looked up to see three sets wide eyes staring at her.

“Are you done then?” Griffin asked.

Morgen nodded.  She didn’t trust her voice.

“Oh my goodness, lass.  What have you been eating?” Mrs. Lawler asked.

Morgen didn’t answer.  She couldn’t believe what had just happened.  In front of a potentially new friend and a magnificently gorgeous guy she had just barfed up an elephant load of vomit.  It was unbelievable.  Continuing to take deep breaths, Morgen stood up and attempted to clean up the mess. 

Mrs. Lawler immediately popped over to her and said, “Don’t you dare Morgen Shanley.  Put that rag down.  Glenda, take her up to the bath and help her get cleaned up.  Let her borrow something of yours to wear.” Mrs. Lawler put her arm around Morgen’s shoulders and walked her to the kitchen door.  “I’ll clean up this mess, don’t worry about a thing, lass.”

Morgen walked up the stairs with Glenda, still unable to speak.  When they got to the bathroom, Glenda said, “Just go on in there and I’ll bring you something to wear.” 

Morgen looked at Glenda and said shakily, “I’m sorry.”

Glenda said, “What are you sorry for?  You can’t help it if you get sick.”

Morgen turned into the bathroom and closed the door.

Chapter 3

After cleaning up, Morgen decided she should leave.  She promised Glenda that she would return her clothes to her the next day at school and she thanked Mrs. Lawler amid the putrid fumes in the kitchen.  Fortunately, Griffin was nowhere to be found. 

When Morgen entered the cottage, Finola was not in her usual spot standing in front of the stove or sitting at the table mixing some concoction.  She decided not to disturb her good fortune by announcing her presence, after all, the bell on the door had rung, and that was good enough for Morgen.  She went straight to her room and changed into her nightgown.  She closed the curtains on her window to shut out the afternoon sun.  As she lay down on her bed, she felt aches in every muscle of her body.  Exhausted, Morgen closed her eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep. 

Later, when it was dark, Morgen awoke and sat up.  She drifted over to her desk and peered into the mirror there.  It seemed larger somehow.  As she looked closer she noticed a slight rippling in the mirror.  Like water.  How funny, thought Morgen.  She had never noticed that before.  As she sat looking at herself, Morgen’s bedroom door opened, and a petite woman wearing a flowing blue gown entered the room.  She had long brown hair that curled on the ends and a perfect creamy complexion.  She was beautiful.  A feeling of comfort and happiness washed over Morgen and she smiled.  She knew right away that this woman was her mother.  She jumped up and hugged her.  Morgen’s mother embraced her warmly and then motioned for her to sit back down at the desk. 

When Morgen sat, she noticed her mirror was now huge and steadily rippling.  She could still clearly see her reflection, but it was as though she was looking into a pool of water rather than a mirror.  Looking down at her desk, she noticed thousands of tiny pearls, seashells, jewels and flowers.  Ribbons of blue, green and peach were strewn here and there.  Morgen’s smile widened.  She turned back to the mirror and beamed at her mother.  Morgen’s mother picked up a lock of Morgen’s hair and began braiding it.  She decorated the braid with pearls and secured the end with a wispy blue ribbon.  Her mother continued in this manner for a while, braiding and decorating sections of Morgen’s hair over and over again.  Occasionally, she would just tie a ribbon around a section, or attach a seashell or jewel to a lock. 

As her mother dressed her hair, Morgen noticed fireflies flashing around her room.  Sometimes, one would fly close to Morgen’s mother and appear to whisper in her ear.  Once, one flew very close to Morgen and she thought she saw human legs attached to the firefly. 

When Morgen’s mother was satisfied with her efforts, she gestured Morgen toward the door.  Morgen arose from her chair and slowly walked toward the door.  The sound of rushing water flooded her ears as she opened the door.  Morgen was swept off her feet by the water pouring into her room.  Suddenly caught in the undertow of the current, Morgen began to panic.  She was alone now and wave after wave of water tossed her around like seaweed and, as her lungs began to ache, all she could think about was breathing.  She knew if she opened her mouth she would drown, and she knew if she didn’t, she would suffocate.  She couldn’t find the surface.  No longer able to fight her body’s will to take in air, her mouth opens against her will and sucks in.  Only it’s not water, but wonderful precious air. 

Suddenly, the water is gone and she is sitting up in bed out of breath and drenched in sweat.  A dream.  It was only a dream.