He stared after her for a moment before following.
* * *
Walking on the beach in loafers was not something Linus enjoyed. He gave brief thought to removing them and his socks and letting his toes dig into the sand, but it fell away when he saw what was waiting for them on the beach.
It was hastily built, the raft. It consisted of four planks of wood tied together with thick, yellow twine. There was a small mast, upon which fluttered what appeared to be a flag.
“What is it?” Linus asked, taking a step toward it, feet sinking into the wet sand. “Is there someone else on the island? That’s not big enough for a man or woman. Is it a child?”
Ms. Chapelwhite shook her head grimly. “No. It was sent here from the village. Someone launched it from their boat. I’m sure they intended it to reach the docks like the last one, but the tide brought it here.”
“Like the last one?” Linus asked, perplexed. “How many have there been?”
“This is the third.”
“Why on earth would anyone— Oh. Oh dear.”
Ms. Chapelwhite had unfurled the parchment attached to the mast. In blocky lettering were the words: LEAVE. WE DON’T WANT YOUR KIND HERE.
“I haven’t told Mr. Parnassus about them,” she said quietly. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t somehow know already. He’s … observant.”
“And this is directed toward whom? The children? Mr. Parnassus? You?”
“All of us, I think, though I’ve been here far longer than the others.” She let the flag drop back against the mast. “And they would know better if it was just me.”
His brow furrowed at that chilling sentiment. “Why would anyone do such a thing? They’re just children. Yes, they are … different than most, but that shouldn’t matter.”
“It shouldn’t,” she agreed, taking a step back, wiping her hands as if they were dirty from touching the parchment. “But it does. I told you about the village, Mr. Baker. And you asked me why they are the way they are.”
“And you danced around answering my question, if I recall.”
Her mouth was a thin line. Her wings were sparkling in the sunlight. “You’re not a stupid man. That much is clear. They are the way they are because we’re different. Even you asked me if I was registered only minutes after we met.”
“This is abuse,” Linus said stiffly, trying to ignore the pointed jab. “Plain and simple. Maybe the people of the village don’t know exactly who inhabits this island, and that’s probably for the best. But regardless of that fact, no one deserves to be made to feel lesser than they are.” He frowned. “Especially if the government pays them for their silence. That has to be a breach of some sort of contract.”
“It’s not only this village, Mr. Baker. Just because you don’t experience prejudice in your everyday doesn’t stop it from existing for the rest of us.”
SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING, the sign on the bus had read. And everywhere, really, wasn’t it? More and more lately. On buses. In newspapers. Billboards. Radio ads. Why, he’d even seen the words printed on a grocery bag of all places.
“No,” he said slowly. “I don’t suppose it does.”
She looked at him, the flowers in her hair appearing as if they were in bloom. He thought they actually were. “And yet these children are separated from their peers.”
“For the safety of others, of course—”
“Or for their own safety.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
She shook her head. “No. And I think you know that.”
He didn’t know what to say in response, so he said nothing at all.
Ms. Chapelwhite sighed. “I wanted you to see it for yourself. So you knew more than what was in those files of yours. The children don’t know, and it’s best to keep it that way.”
“Do you know who sent it?”
“No.”
“And Mr. Parnassus?”
She shrugged.
He glanced around, suddenly nervous. “Do you think they’re in danger? Could someone come to the island and attempt to cause harm?” The very thought caused his stomach to clench. It wouldn’t do. Violence against any child was wrong, no matter what they were capable of. He’d seen a master of an orphanage strike a boy in the face once, just because the boy had managed to change a piece of fruit to ice. That orphanage had been shut down almost immediately, and the master charged.
He’d gotten away with a slap on the wrist.
Linus didn’t know what had happened to the boy.
The smile that grew on Ms. Chapelwhite’s face held no humor. In fact, Linus thought, it looked almost feral. “They wouldn’t dare,” she said, showing far too many teeth. “The moment they stepped onto my island with the intention of hurting someone in that house, it would be the last thing they’d do.”
He believed her. He thought hard for a moment, and then said, “Perhaps we should send a message in response.”
She cocked her head at him. “Wouldn’t that be against your rules and regulations?”
He couldn’t meet her knowing gaze. “I don’t believe there’s a subparagraph for a situation like this.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“You’re an island sprite.”
“Your observational skills are astounding.”
He snorted. “Which means you control the currents around your island, correct? And the wind.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about magical creatures, Mr. Baker.”
“I’m very good at what I do,” he said primly. He pulled his pencil from his pocket. “Hold the parchment out for me, would you?”
She hesitated briefly before doing just that.
It took him a few minutes. He had to go over each letter multiple times to make his words clear. By the time he finished, Ms. Chapelwhite’s smile had softened, and it was perhaps the most sincere expression he’d seen since he’d met her.
“I didn’t think you capable of such a thing, Mr. Baker,” she said, sounding gleeful.
“I didn’t either,” he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “It’s best if we don’t mention this again.”
He helped her push the raft back into the water, though he thought she was just humoring him. She most likely didn’t need his assistance. By the time the raft set sail again, parchment flapping, his loafers were wet, his socks soaked, and he was breathing heavily.
But he felt lighter somehow. Like he wasn’t paint blending into the wall.
He felt real.
He felt present.
Almost like he could be seen.
The wind picked up, and the raft sailed away, back toward the mainland in the distance.
He didn’t know if anyone would actually find it, if it would actually make it across the channel.
And even if they did find it, they’d probably ignore it.
That almost didn’t matter.
LEAVE. WE DON’T WANT YOUR KIND HERE, one side of the parchment said.
NO, THANK YOU, the other side said.
They stood on the beach in the sand with water lapping at their feet for a long time.