Guardian of the Green Hill by Laura L. Sullivan Page B

induce the Green Hill to open against its will. The last retreat of the fairies hunkered and held its peace against Meg’s commands and Finn’s few baffled kicks against the turf. When Meg had expended enough of her energy to be rational again, Finn asked her what she had seen.
    â€œJames. Or … I thought it was James. It looked like James.” She used to live in a world where, if something looked like a thing, it was that thing. Not so anymore.
    â€œTell me exactly what you saw,” Finn said, and she did, even concealing her annoyance when he made her linger over her description of the queen, down to the moment she saw James’s dear little face.
    â€œBut you can’t know if it was him, can you? I don’t know much about fairies”—though after weeks of quizzing Dickie on his research, Finn knew more than he thought—“but it might just be a fairy pretending to be James, right? I mean, if they knew you were watching, they might take his form just to mess with you, make you think they had stolen him. Isn’t that something they’d do?”
    She had to admit it was.
    â€œThat’s it! I’ve had enough!” she yelled, not at Finn but at the Green Hill. “I won’t do it! You all are crazy—you fairies, and Phyllida, and Bran, and everyone in this village. You are horrible, mean, cruel.… Why doesn’t everyone move away from here and fence it off with barbwire and post guards?” She collapsed into tears. “You made me kill Bran. You took James, or even if you didn’t, it’s just as bad to make me think so. I won’t be Guardian! I won’t! Phyllida can find someone else … or no one else! I don’t care. I’m writing home tomorrow. I want to go home! I want to see my mom and dad! I hate this place!” And to Finn’s dismay, she fell on his shoulder, heaving and sobbing in a wet, sticky mess.
    â€œUh, there, there?” There, there? He cursed himself. What on earth did “there, there” mean? Where, where? What good was that supposed to do Meg?
    â€œCome on, let’s go home. Phyllida can sort this out.” He pushed her gently away, and as soon as the warmth of her cheek was off his shoulder, he almost wished it were back. As repulsive and confusing as it was in one way, it was also kind of nice. It made him feel important, older, different from how he usually was.
    Who knows what Phyllida thought when they appeared at the door, so long after dark, coming from the woods, Meg distraught and tear-stained, Finn with obvious signs of having been struck about the head.
    â€œWhere’s James?” Meg demanded before Phyllida could put any of her hypotheses into words.
    â€œUpstairs in bed, I imagine. Meg, where were you? We were so worried.”
    Phyllida found herself talking to Meg’s rapidly retreating back as the girl dashed up the stairs. Meg scoured the bedrooms and found no sign of James.
    â€œWhere is he?” she asked, almost hysterical.
    â€œI don’t know, dear. Tell me, one of you, what this is all about? What has James to do with it?”
    Finn had to be spokesman. “We were at the Green Hill,” he began.
    â€œMeg took you to the Green Hill?” Lysander asked.
    â€œNo, I found it. We were looking for Moll.” He almost told them about the weeping woman, but first things first. “Then we went back to the hill, and Meg saw the fairies, and she said she saw James with them. He went under the Green Hill, and we couldn’t get in.”
    â€œIs this true?” Phyllida asked Meg as she ran by.
    â€œYes, yes, yes!” she said exasperatedly, making dashing forays into rooms in search of James and then coming back to the group.
    Rowan, Silly, and Dickie were drifting downstairs, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, asking what all the hubbub was about.
    â€œJames is missing,” Meg said. “Have you seen him? Who saw him