Cocot squeezed Daniel's constellation book to her chest until the points dug into her skin. She no longer belonged anywhere in the human world. She was untethered—lost and more alone than ever.

Soufflé, unnoticed, landed on her shoulder. She shrugged to make him go and hurried away from the tables.

"Coquelicot!" he called.

"Soufflé," she said, not looking at him, "I'm so glad you found me. I wanted to say goodbye. I'm leaving just like you told me to. It was lovely knowing you and perhaps one day we can get together—"

"Coquelicot!" he interrupted, flying in front of her face. She tried to go around, but he flitted with her. "Has it happened, child? Are you fully fairy kind now? The children can't see you, either?"

She clenched the book in anger. "I would rather be a thoughtless, dumb flower in the dirt than a fairy! I wish my mother had never found me! I wish she had never changed me! I wish all fairy creatures would dry up and disappear forever. I have to abandon my home because of fairies. I just lost my only friend because of fairies. And I'm supposed to be a fairy, too? With my one drop of magic?"

Soufflé held his hands up to beg her to listen.

"Child, I know it is painful to change, it is always painful, but becoming fully fairy is not so horrible. You will have more strength and magical power, the ability to travel far and wide. Sickness, hunger, cold; these things will hardly touch you. It is the way of fairy life. Can't you learn to accept the good along the bad?"

"I had one friend, Soufflé. Do you love anyone? Do you care about anyone?"

"Do I...why, I loved, I love my family," he mumbled. "And I care about...." He did not finish.

"Well, I have no family and I never will because of fairies. I don't even get to say goodbye to Daniel before I have to leave. There is no kindness in them or their world."

"Our world has kindness," he countered. "Sometimes." His hand brushed his miniature tea cup hanging from his belt. "Take this." He held up an empty hand, smaller than her fingertip.

She shook her head and continued to walk blindly down the drive. Only a minute later, Soufflé caught up, out of breath from flying so fast.

"Take this, Coquelicot! Touch his eyes and tell him to see you," he gasped. "Trust me."

She held out her finger to his hand and he touched it. There was the barest shimmer, like quartz flecks in the dirt, a tiny flash then nothing.

"It's all I have, but it should last a few minutes. Enough for you to say goodbye. I'll meet you at your chalet later before you leave tonight." With that, he careened in a side curve and away.

Coquelicot stopped. Soufflé must have given her the dust he used for spells.

She would try one more time. Magic had saved Hector. It would help her now.

The women were beginning to clear the dishes and platters from the tables, older men joining Mr. Ruffieux in lighting their pipes and cigarettes. Daniel was standing up and making as though to follow the group he had been sitting with, even though they ignored him.

Cocot walked towards him, weaving in and about the humans, walked behind him and reached her hand to his eyes.

"Turn, Daniel, and see me again."

A child near Cocot wailed in frustration and Daniel glanced around to pinpoint the sound. His gaze fell on Cocot. He blinked in surprise and confusion. Then he smiled.

She put her finger to her lips for silence.

***

"I wanted to come by, to bring you some flour and eggs," Daniel said. They were standing in the shade by the farm house, away from the crowd. "I meant to come by several times, but...." His voice faded and his features distorted with a frown.

"You forgot about me," Cocot whispered. "It's not your fault." She gave him his book.

"How could I forget?" he asked, more to himself than her.

"Don't worry. I came today to tell you I'm leaving. I have to go away for a while, a long while. It's not safe at the chalet anymore. I wanted to tell you goodbye." Her words came out in a rush. She did not think about their meanings or how they were put together. They were just individual words made of consonants and vowels. Just noises.

"To where? Did you get a job?"

"I'm not sure how, but I'll find work wherever I go."

He shook his head. "That's not a good plan. Did the authorities get word—if they catch you, you'll have two or three years in an orphanage or worse. Let me get my things ready. We'll go to Lausanne or Geneva together. You can rent a room and find work in a sewing shop. We'll say you're my sister."

"Daniel, I'm sorry. I can't wait any longer. I have to go tonight."

"Then I'll go with you tonight. I'm nearly old enough, and I'm tall for my age. As a girl, you'll find a room with an old maid like that." He snapped his fingers. Energy and determination lit his face from within—he would have grabbed his things that instant if she had asked.

"I can't let you go with me," she said. "I can't explain, but it's too dangerous, too difficult for you."

"Is someone after you? Tell me who."

"I can't."

"It's not safe out there alone. We should go together."

"If I promise to meet you somewhere?" she offered. "Name a place. I'll come and find you in a few months." By then, he would have forgotten about her again, but she had to find a way to make him accept her goodbyes.

"Cocot, I don't think—"

"Daniel!" barked a gruff voice. Mr. Ruffieux had come from around the corner of the house and stumped right up to Daniel's face. His pipe was cupped in his gnarled hand and smoke escaped from his nostrils into his moustache. It stung Cocot's eyes. "I told you to get the donkey for the rides. Why are you lazing about here?"

"I'll do it. I need a moment to talk to...to my friend. I won't be a minute."

Mr. Ruffieux squinted at Daniel and then with an exaggerated movement, looked around. His eyes went straight through Cocot. Twice. The yellowed hairs of his moustache quivered. "Talking to yourself is what you're doing. You're as crazy as your mother, so go get the donkey before I have ask an orderly at Marsens to come with the wagon," the old farmer spat.

"Don't say a word about my mother," Daniel hissed.

"Then keep your imaginary friends inside your head and do what I tell you to do."

Daniel's eyes flicked to Cocot. Mr. Ruffieux tapped the boy's chest with pipe. As someone called for the farmer to come, he gave one final, threatening tap.

For a moment, Daniel did not speak or move. The farmer limped painfully back to the party. Cocot shifted on her feet. She had been inches from the old man—he had almost hit her with his pipe.

"Daniel, please—" she began.

"They don't see you," he interrupted, dazed. "They don't see you."

"They don't see you, either." None of them truly saw him.

He shook his head. "No, he couldn't see you. Are you real?"

"Of course, I am. I'm...I'm as real as you are."

He licked his lips, shaking his head again. "Are you sure?"

She remember the old farmer's eyes looking at the wall behind her and of the day at the market when everyone had been deaf and blind to her. Fairy magic. Turning her into a ghost. Nausea spreading through her stomach. "I just wanted to say goodbye before going."

He was already stepping backwards. "All right. Goodbye."

"Please, I—"

"You'd better go. Goodbye." He hunched his shoulders, rounding his back with his studied indifference and left. It felt like a slap. A stinging pain that shot through her whole being.

Cocot bit her lips closed. She would fade from his memory and sight soon--her life as a ghostly being was just beginning. Out of habit, Cocot turned for the path that led through the fields to the shortcut.

The sight of a hunched creature at the forest's edge stopped her. The passage keeper. The old crone collected the shadows to her tattered cloak and she deadened the sound of life and song that usually flourished among the trees.

She was watching Cocot. The passage keeper was always watching. Doubt crippled the girl. Cocot could never run away unseen, never escape.

The passage keeper slowly opened her arms as though inviting Cocot to come for an embrace. The field between them seemed to contract and disappear. Cocot was suffocating.

"Cohhcohhhh," the wind moaned.

She pivoted and stumbled through the picnic, knocking over a chair in her dash for the drive. Telling herself that tonight was still her best chance—she would leave under the cover of the early night's darkness before the moon rose, when the fairies under the hill began their dancing and the passage keeper would hear only the music—she fled down the drive to the road.

*** The Passage Keeper is always watching... ***