Naptime Fairy

By Madeleine Voge

I was never chosen to be the naptime fairy, the one who tiptoed around the classroom and waved a wand with bells on the end of it because instead of curling up and closing my eager eyes, I stacked blocks and whispered with Brooks, the boy with long eyelashes who was allergic to bees. When Lucy rang the bells in my ear, I was already wide awake, picking at staples caught in the carpet. I put one in my mouth and crushed it between my teeth. I remember the taste: salt and blood.

On Tuesdays, Justice brought pepperoni rolls for the class and we played Oregon Trail together at the computer station. He pulled his pants down and told me to do it too. I can’t remember if I did, but I remember Mary died of dysentery or maybe a broken wrist. Luke’s dad died that year too, in a plane crash and we watched it on TV, over and over. Smoke blew in from New York City and stuck to our clothes. On Father’s Day, Luke went to another classroom while we made cards with glitter and glue sticks. He hated the smell of smoke.

I learned my shapes that year and how to pronounce my r’s, “Awound the wugged wock the wagged wascal wan.” I stopped wearing pull-ups and learned to slick back my hair into a springy ponytail. The only day that I listened to Ms. Lewis and slept during naptime, the fairy forgot to wake me up. I slept through the hatching of the chicks and the steaming pepperoni rolls and Luke cutting himself with craft scissors again.

About the author

Madeleine Voge is a writer and artist in San Francisco. Her work has appeared in TIMBER, Lighthouse Weekly, The Bangalore Review, Morbid Podcast, and on the backs of 15 million sparkling water cans. In 2021, she was awarded Forbes 30 Under 30 and was in the top .1% of Billie Eilish listeners on Spotify (these are not connected, though maybe they should be). Today, Madeleine is writing her first book about a girl with special powers.