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Bottle Babies

by Mary A. Turzillo

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Allie first saw the fairies in the flower garden beside the driveway, and they were naked. But maybe they would be her friends. She didn’t have any friends because Mom and Dad didn’t want people to come into the house and discover Bobby.

How to make friends with them, when they were almost invisible?

She thought the spicy-fragrant petunia blossoms were small enough to make skirts for them; she knew they were girl-fairies because of their long hair, lavender, pink, and pale green, but her eyes weren’t good enough to see if they had nipples, like her own, which must be concealed.

Perhaps a tiny cloverleaf could cover each breast, though she wasn’t sure how to keep them in place.

“Mom,” she said, “May I borrow some thread?”

Mom’s sharp gray gaze flicked away from her needlework, a scene of a Japanese garden. Mom had all sorts of hobbies. “You may have that black spool that’s almost gone.”

Allie chewed the end of her braid. “Colors would be better.”

Mom threw down her needlework, annoyed.

“I want to make little clothes.”