The Hybrid by Lauren Shelton Page B

never return to the field again.
    Option two
⎯ Tru would look up, see nothing, wait all
day for something to happen, go home when it got dark,
and return every day until she had seen what she had
originally hoped to see.
    Option three
⎯ which was much different from the
first two ⎯ Tru would raise her head and find herself
looking into the eyes of a fairy. She would be so startled at
first that she wouldn’t know what to do. Tru would try to
say something ⎯ probably something stupid ⎯ and the
fairy would get scared and fly away.
    Option one seemed to be the most logical. Normal . It
had to be. If she didn’t see anything at this moment, Tru
would go home, and forget all about the myth and the
conversation she had the night before with the mysterious
voices.
    Slowly, Tru raised her head, and took a deep breath. One, two, thr ⎯
    “Wait,” the young man’s familiar voice whispered in
Tru’s ear. She could hear the distant sound of the grass
crunching under his feet as he advanced across the field
in front of her.
    But she listened, and kept her eyes shut, mostly out of
fear.
“What do you want from me?” Tru whispered back to
the man.
“I want to know why you keep coming here.” The
humming noise could be heard in the distance, followed
by a light breeze, caressing her softly on the cheek.
“I like it here,” she lied. “It’s peaceful.”
“That is a lie.” He was louder now. His voice echoed
across the field.
How does he know? Can he hear what I’m thinking?
Or can he hear it in my voice?
“I have seen you here, many times. You sit and wait.
What are you waiting for?”
Tru listened as the sound of flapping wings grew louder and closer. Her eyes closed tighter, making sure that
no light could be seen through her eyelids.
“What do you want from us?” he asked. His voice held
a strange force behind it this time, and sounded as though
he was less than an inch from Tru’s ear.
“I want to know everything,” she whispered, placing
her head back into her knees.
“Why?”
Tru didn’t respond.
“Why do you hide your face?” the cool and smooth
voice asked. “Why do you close your eyes?” The crunching
grass sound began again, and for a second, Tru could hear
the sound of the young man taking a deep breath.
“I’m afraid.” Tru couldn’t help it. She knew what she
was talking to, but was he one of the good ones? Were there good ones?
“Afraid
of
what,
exactly?
Do
I
frighten
you?” He
sounded alarmed. He sounded almost shocked that Tru was the one afraid of him . But his voice was still smooth
⎯ placid almost⎯ like a ripple-free pool of water, but it
was not a baritone voice. It was soft with feeling⎯ enticing and thoughtful. His slight accent ⎯a mixture of English and something Mediterranean⎯ and choice of words
made him sound ethereal, like he was born in another
century. But he sounded much too young for that to be
possible.
“I’m only frightened because I don’t know who,” ⎯ or
what ⎯ “you are.”
“Well, I think you know very well what I am.”
Tru paused for a moment, still slightly shocked that he
had known what she was thinking.
“Then what is your name?” Tru lifted her head, but her
eyes remained shut.
“My name is Edyn.”
His name was simple, but so beautiful. It was like a
song that found itself stuck in Tru’s head, twisting each
syllable, each letter, into its own melody. It was a simple
name, but the way he said it made it sound so complex, so
intoxicating.
“How tall are you?” Tru immediately felt stupid for
choosing that as her first question, but she had no idea.
How tall is a fairy supposed to be?
“I am six feet and two inches tall.”
Am I really hearing this?
Tru didn’t move. She couldn’t even speak. Tru thought
fairies were merely inches tall, like the ones she used to
read about in fairy tales. The image of Tinkerbell quickly
flashed in her mind, and for a second, she wanted