which killed any authoritative tone you might try to pull off as an adult. Third, they felt the right to pause on occasion to give you detailed instructions on how to run your life.
“C’mon,” Chip repeated, only a whisper of pleading in his voice. “Let’s do this.”
Andy sighed, glanced up and down the road again, and gave a short nod. A second later, he disappeared into his truck.
Chip turned at the sound of a screen door slamming and saw the fairy woman back on her porch, locking her front door.
Andy began rolling toward him, his truck’s massive tires overtaking the small road. He crawled past a parked Suburban, sparing inches between the truck and the sleek body of the huge vehicle. Stopping ten yards before the house, exhaust running, Andy waited for Chip’s signal.
Chip beckoned Andy on.
The ground began to rumble as the brake lights turned off and the truck, with dumpster attached, moved backward.
“Watch the car.” Chip signaled to move around the Suburban and Andy corrected, pulling forward into Bree’s front yard.
Bree stiffened, watching the front of the large vehicle roll onto her grass.
“He’s just gotta get the truck aligned,” Chip called out to her. “Should take just a moment.”
Andy rolled the window down and strained his neck out to look up and back. Chip could already see he was going to have to move farther into her yard to overcorrect the steering wheel, avoid the power line drooping like low-hanging fruit, and dodge the two parked cars and mailboxes.
Chip feigned a smile in her direction.
Turned his head back to Andy as he waved him on.
Flicked his eyes toward the tires, now farther into Bree’s yard.
Felt his stomach tighten with each inch of grass flattened underneath Andy’s massive tires.
Hurry up, Andy, Chip thought. Get in and get out.
Much longer and this was going to get worse. Much longer and—
Chip’s jaw flexed as he watched the front tire sink like a horse losing its step midcanter. It was but an inch, maybe two, but he saw the distinctive dip.
Oh no.
No. No. No.
Andy hung his head out the window and spotted the damage, then let loose a round of curses. The mother across the street covered her toddlers’ ears as she rushed them inside.
Chip winced. “Andy. Andy!” he called, striding forward as the grass around the tire started to fill with water.
Andy’s hand slapped the side of the door. “It’s that bleepity bleep car in my way. If they could’ve just bleep bleepity bleep parked like a normal person . . . And I told you I couldn’t do it, Chip. If you had just listened to me!”
Andy fiddled with his jacket pocket in search of a cigarette and waved another hand toward everything from the power line to “all those bleepity blue jays” as he began defending his superb driving skills. Meanwhile, Chip inspected the damage. He guessed this little mistake would cost upwards of fifteen hundred dollars to fix.
“I know it’s not your fault, Andy. Nobody here’s blaming you.”
Andy took a deep drag from his cigarette.
Chip took advantage of the momentary silence and launched into what he hoped would be a soothing monologue. “It’s going to be okay—”
Andy’s mouth moved around his cigarette as he spoke. “Like bleep it is. I don’t have money to throw at this. And you definitely don’t have this kind of money.”
As Chip was about to interject, a firm and painful tap on the shoulder cut him short.
He turned.
The green-faced nymph was inches away from his face as she had been just hours before. Only instead of a potted fern, she now gripped what appeared to be a bowlful of nuts.
Something was different about her eyes right then. Perhaps it was the fire dancing in them, but they flashed so green they reminded him of the cool, frosted pines he’d biked past on the mountains that morning. She was like one branch in particular, which had slapped him unexpectedly around mile seven. He could still feel the sting on his cheek.
“I need you to move your truck.”
“I, uh, sure. Absolutely.” Chip slapped the back of the dumpster and called up, “You go on, Andy. I’ll handle things from here.”
Andy escaped only too readily, the truck rumbling down the hill in such haste Chip feared he would break something else along the way.
Chip turned around. “I’m so sorry about this—”
But his words faltered.
She was nowhere in sight.
The ignition of the Subaru sounded and he turned in time to catch the flash of the woman’s red