Prilla and the Butterfly Lie Read Free

called a familiar voice. Nettle waved to her from across the room.
    Oh, no, Prilla thought. She had planned to tell Nettle the bad news after breakfast. But then she shrugged. I might as well get it over with, she thought. She took a deep breath and-headed toward the caterpillar shearers table.
    “Our honorary caterpillar shearer!” gushed Jason. “We’re looking forward to working with you again today.”
    Nettle patted the seat next to her. “Sit down,” she said. She noticed Prilla hesitate. “What’s the matter, Prilla?” she asked.
    Now was the perfect time to tell her. But Prilla didn’t know how to begin.
    “Are you ill?” Nettle asked.
    Prilla shook her head. She gulped. “Actually, I have to be honest with you, Nettle,” she said.
    “Yes?” said Nettle. Her hazel eyes widened.
    “Here’s the thing about caterpillars…,” Prilla began. She opened her mouth to say, “I don’t like them.” But nothing came out. She couldn’t say the words aloud.
    Nettle smiled. “I know,” she said. “Aren’t they great?”
    Prilla lost her nerve. “Yes,” she fibbed. “Caterpillars are great.” Then she had an idea. “But there’s something I like even better.”
    “What is it?” asked Nettle. “What could possibly be even better than caterpillars?”
    Prilla bit her lip. Her mind was a complete blank. “I like…” She frantically tried to think of something. Think, Prilla, think! She stared out the window for inspiration.
    At that moment, a pretty pink and blue butterfly flitted past. “Butterflies!” Prilla said triumphantly. “I like butterflies!” She felt relieved for a split second. Then she thought, Butterflies? Why did I just say that?
    Nettle gave her a puzzled look. “Butterflies?” she finally said. “Are you sure?”
    It was too late to change her answer now. “Yes, I’m sure,” Prilla said, nodding. “Lovely butterflies. I just can’t get enough of them. Such colorful, delicate creatures. They fly, you know. All over the place. Fascinating,” she babbled.

    “Butterflies,” Nettle said. “How unusual.” She shook her head, as if to clear it. “That’s very…interesting.” Nettle paused for a moment. “Well, I guess you won’t be helping us with the caterpillars today, then?”
    “I guess not,” said Prilla. “I’ll be focusing on…butterflies.”
    Nettle’s brow wrinkled. “If you say so,” she said.
    “See you later, Nettle,” said Prilla. She crossed the room and found an empty seat at the keyhole-design table. As she sat down, she braced herself for someone to ask her to help design keyholes.
    But to her relief, no one did. Instead, the fairies at the table chatted about the designs they were planning to create that day. Prilla smiled and ate her breakfast in silence.
    She took a big bite of a roll. Light and flaky and buttery—delicious. The jam was both tart and sweet. Mmm. She had forgotten how hungry she was.
    As she ate, she thought about what she had told Nettle. Not being truthful to Nettle had been wrong. But Prilla had only done it to spare her friend’s feelings. There was no reason to think about it anymore. It was over and done with.
    That is the end of that, Prilla thought.

T HAT EVENING AT DINNER , Prilla sat quietly by herself. She thought about all the adventures she’d had that day blinking over to the mainland. She had surprised a little girl struggling over a homework problem. She’d cheered up a boy who’d been kept after school for talking in class. She had played peekaboo with a baby, who had screamed with delight.
    She had also visited a toy store, where she had amused young shoppers by sitting in the engine of a toy train. Then she’d hid behind a stack of sugar cones in an ice cream parlor. She had flown to the top of a Ferris wheel and made faces at the riders. Later, she’d sat on a little girl’s shoulder at the circus while clowns tumbled and cheerful music played.
    Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding! Prilla looked up