seventeen

At first, some fairies thought Clara had not come into her magical powers that night. For Clara’s dress did not transform into a golden gown; her hair did not spin into curls; her arms and throat did not shine with jewels. But those who know Sheepskerry, and the fairies who live there, realized that Clara was indeed an enchanted fairy, even if she didn’t change on the outside. As she flew up to the stage to take her place next to Rowan, her wings were strong, her path was steady, her eyes sparkled, her smile beamed, and there was a glow about her that comes from magic alone.

Rowan and Clara danced the first dance of the Farewell Banquet together. And they danced all the other dances of the evening together, too.

At the end of that beautiful night, as the tide was turning, the gnomes boarded their boats and said good-bye to the Sheepskerry fairies. As Alasdair flirted (he was asking all the fairies for their snail mail addresses) and Ethelrood chatted with Avery, Rowan walked with Clara under the moonlight on Sheepskerry Dock.

“I have something for you,” he said. “It’s why I was late to the banquet.”

Clara looked at what Rowan held out to her.

“It’s . . . it’s a valentine,” he said.

Indeed it was a valentine of sorts, but it wasn’t made of shiny paper or delicate lace. It was made of stone.

“This is the stone I found on Sunrise Hill,” said Rowan. “It’s in the shape of—”

Clara took it from him gently. “It’s in the shape of a heart,” she said.

“I painted it myself,” said Rowan, blushing. “Fairies like pink. At least that’s what Hamish and Cam told me.”

Clara smiled at the splash of pink on the stone heart. Rowan was a better swimmer than he was a painter.

“Look at the back,” said Rowan.

Clara turned it over. Carved into the stone were two little words:

YOU ROCK

“Get it?” said Rowan. “It’s a rock and—”

“I get it,” said Clara. “And Rowan?” She smiled. “You rock, too.”