Disney Fairies: Art Lessons by Bess Page 4

  But Scarlett clambered out of the mud once more. To Bess’ astonishment, Scarlett was grinning.

  Scarlett held out her arms and feebly beat her mud-heavy wings. “So, how do I look?” She turned that way and this, as though she were modeling the latest creation of the dressmaking fairies. Instead she was only modeling a lot of reddish-brown mud.

  “You look—really silly!” Bess started to laugh, and Scarlett joined in. Together they giggled for what seemed like a very long time, peals of laughter ringing in the glade. How ridiculous they both were! But—somehow—they were still having fun.

  When they finally stopped laughing, Scarlett wiped happy tears from her eyes. Mud smudged her cheeks. “Okay, let’s try again.”

  “Again?” Bess said. “Don’t you think you had better go for help?”

  “Only if I have to,” Scarlett said. “I really think I can get it myself, if I just give it one more twist.”

  Bess knew, if she were in Scarlett’s place, she would have given up by now. She would have flown to find other fairies right away. And if Scarlett were in her place—stuck against a tree—she wouldn’t be embarrassed. Scarlett wasn’t a bit scared of looking silly. Maybe she wasn’t scared of anything.

  Bess wished she could be that brave.

  Then she realized: She had just wished to be like Scarlett. Scarlett! The one with no talent! The one who put crazy twigs in her hair and wore strange clothes! Who would want to be like Scarlett?

  Bess would, she thought as she watched Scarlett grab the ivy vines once more.

  “All right,” Scarlett said, bracing her feet against the ground. “This time I’m going to twist the vines at the same time. That might break them. Got it?”

  “Absolutely,” Bess said. “Let’s go!”

  Bess pushed with all her might. Scarlett pulled even harder. The ivy vines twisted in her grasp, until—

  SNAP!

  Bess and Scarlett both fell down into the mud puddle as the vines gave away. Together they laughed even harder than they had before.

  “Look at all these vines!” Scarlett held up a handful of Boing-Boing Ivy. “How much do we need for paint?”

  “We’ve got more than enough now,” Bess said proudly. “All because of you.”

  “I didn’t do much of anything,” Scarlett said.

  “You did the most important thing.” Bess put one muddy hand on Scarlett’s shoulder. “You refused to give up.”

  Scarlett’s eyes twinkled with hope. “First thing tomorrow, I’m going to start experimenting again. This time I won’t stop until I find my talent. No matter what.”

  “Tomorrow?” Bess said. “Not today?”

  Scarlett nodded toward the ivy. “Today, I’m making paint for Leo’s mural.”

  Bess beamed. She pulled herself out of the reddish mud and held out a hand to Scarlett. “Need me to help you up?”

  “I can manage,” Scarlett said. She sighed. “Seems like a shame, though.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Bess, confused.

  “Getting out of all this lovely mud.” Scarlett squished some of the mud between her fingers. “It feels so wonderfully goopy. Like I’d love to play in it all day. Don’t you feel the same?”

  Bess gasped and clapped her hands to her cheeks. The ivy leaves fell in the mud, forgotten for a moment. “Scarlett! I’m not sure, but maybe—just maybe—”

  “What?” Scarlett asked.

  With a smile, Bess said, “I think I might know what kind of art you should create!”

  TOGETHER BESS AND Scarlett raced through Pixie Hollow. Their wings were too muddy for them to fly, but fairies could run quickly when they wanted to. Bess was definitely in a hurry today!

  “Where are we going?” Scarlett asked.

  “To the pottery workshop!”

  The Pixie Hollow pottery workshop was in a hollowed-out stump not far from Mother Dove’s nest. As they swooped downward, Bess and Scarlett saw fairies and sparrow men in aprons, setting out trays of beautiful clay jugs and plates. Other art-talent fairies—mostly painters, like Bess—gathered there, eager to decorate the new creations.

  “Hello there!” Bess called as they hurried up. “I was wondering—could Scarlett try making pottery?”

  She saw the painting-talent fairies glance at each other. Scarlett had a reputation for disasters. A few people even edged between Scarlett and the new pots, afraid she might knock them over.

  A pottery-making fairy named Raku came out of the workshop smiling. “You think Scarlett might be one of us? That would be lovely. Why do you think so?”

  “The mud,” Bess explained. She realized that she and Scarlett were still filthy, head to toe.

  “When we were out collecting ivy this morning, we fell in the mud, and Scarlett loved it!” Bess said.

  Scarlett shrugged. “How could anybody not love mud?”

  “That sounds like a potter, all right.” Raku gestured to her work apron, which was covered with splatters of clay. It won’t matter that Scarlett’s messy here, Bess thought. They all are! “Let’s give it a try. Ready, Scarlett?”

  Scarlett glanced at the crowd of other fairies standing nearby. Bess would have been embarrassed to try—and fail—in front of them. But Scarlett lifted her chin proudly. “Ready!”

  Maybe someday, Bess thought, I’ll be more like Scarlett, and I won’t care what other people think either. I hope so!

  They walked inside the workshop. There, fairies and sparrow men kneaded clay on broad wooden tables. Others carefully used big paddles to slide soft new pots into the blazing kiln that would bake them into hardness.

  Over her shoulder, Bess glanced at the other fairies and sparrow men who were crowding into the windows to see how Scarlett would do. When Scarlett walked near a shelf of newly fired pots—thin and breakable—a few fairies gasped.

  Yet Scarlett broke nothing. She was sure and steady now that she was in the pottery workshop.

  She’s really different here, Bess thought. It’s as if Scarlett belongs. I hope it’s true!

  Raku brought Scarlett to a small pottery wheel in the corner. “Normally I would give you an apron to protect your dress,” Raku said, “but there’s not much point, is there?”

  Scarlett laughed and pointed at her muddy clothes. “Not today!”

  “Here’s what you do,” Raku explained, as she plopped down a hunk of clay in the center of the wheel. “You press on this pedal on the floor with your foot. That makes the wheel spin.”

  Scarlett pressed once, and the wheel made a lazy circle.

  Raku continued, “Then you dampen your fingers and put your hands on either side of the clay—”

  “To center it on the wheel,” Scarlett said. Her eyes were sparkling with delight. “Then you can start to mold the clay.”

  “Exactly!” Raku said. “Give it a try.”

  A few sparrow men and fairies at the windows started whispering to each other. Bess suspected they were still predicting another disaster.

  Come on, Scarlett, she thought. You can do it!

  Scarlett began working the pedal, and right away the wheel began spinning merrily. She dipped her hands in a nearby bowl of water, then took hold of the clay. Immediately the shapeless lump became a perfect cone.

  “She has it balanced already!” Raku said. “That’s wonderful!”

  Right away, Scarlett pressed her fingers into the center of the cone, and as Bess and the others watched, the clay took the shape of a beautiful round bowl.

  Everyone at the windows began to clap and cheer.

  Scarlett let the wheel spin to a stop. “That was so much fun!” she said. “It felt so—natural! So easy!”

  Raku put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re definitely a pottery-talent fairy,” she said. “I don’t even have to tell you what to do next, do I?”

  “Next I trim the bottom of the bowl to give it a more pleasing shape,” Scarlett said. “And then I fire it in the kiln, to make it hard, and then I give it to my best friend.” Sh
e grinned at Bess.

  Bess smiled back. “Then I paint it the prettiest color I can think of.” She looked at the bunches of ivy they had left at the door of the workshop. “Maybe dark green?”

  Bess hugged Scarlett tightly. They got mud all over each other, but for once, Bess didn’t mind if everyone saw her get messy. Not one little bit.