It was a hot and muggy night. The Tooth Fairy was only halfway through his shift. Things had not gone well—a wind gust had almost blown him into a burning flare stack at a Pennsylvania refinery, he had barely eluded an amorous bat in West Virginia, and his shoulder was absolutely killing him.

He had started out carrying dimes when he took this job years ago. Inflation gradually upped the tooth fee to a quarter, so his bag got a lot heavier. Quarters weighed a whole lot more than dimes. As inflation continued, the Tooth Department switched to Sacagawea dollar coins, which were even heavier than quarters. A decade of schlepping Golden Dollars had really done a number on his shoulder. If this kept up, management would eventually have him lugging around a sack of Krugerrands. Stupid suits. If he wrote the rules, every manager would have to spend a couple of years on the line, just so they would know what it was like.

To make the Tooth Fairy’s night worse, the client at his previous delivery had gotten sick. What a mess! He could almost identify what the little porker had pigged out on before bedtime. What was wrong with these people? Children were supposed to have sugarplums dancing in their heads, not upchucked on their pillows.

The Tooth Fairy pulled out his Iphone and checked the address of the next stop. It was in a trailer park off an unattractive segment of Route 1 south of Alexandria, Virginia. He flew through a choking cloud of exhaust fumes from the constantly busy highway and circled over the park. There it was, at the end of the drive, a plain but well-maintained singlewide, no wheels.

He dropped down, waved magically to pass through the screen, and entered the child’s bedroom. To his horror, there was his client, little Susie Quinones, aged six, sitting up in bed, wide awake, obviously expecting him.

SHIT!! He was never supposed to enter a bedroom if the kid was awake, but he was so achingly tired that his attention had faltered. How was he going to explain this when the news got back to the office, as it surely would? The only other time this had happened to him was fifteen years ago in a posh Westchester mansion. The spoiled scion of the house had been feigning sleep. When the Tooth Fairy slipped the quarter under the pillow, the kid sat up and yelled, “What? Only a quarter? After all the time I spent growing this tooth? This is really chintzy. I’m telling my father. He’s a lawyer.”

The little bastard had scared the crap out of him. The Tooth Fairy had thrown the tooth back on the pillow, wrested the quarter from the kid’s hand, and said, “You do that, kid. Good luck with finding a court.”

That little display of temper had cost him a two weeks suspension.

His current client greeted him with a heart-melting smile. “Hi. I’m Susie, and you’re the Tooth Fairy! I’ve been waiting for you. This is my very first tooth!”

He landed on the footboard and set down his bag of Sacagaweas (the wags at the office called them Squawbucks). He sat heavily and sighed. “You got me, Susie. You’re supposed to be asleep, you know.”

“I know, but I was so excited! My daddy said I should give you something. Here.”

To his surprise, the child reached into a battered Styrofoam six-pack cooler on her bedstand, pulled out a frosty can of beer, and handed it to him. She said, “He didn’t say what to give you, but this is what he really likes when he gets home. Just one. I hope you like it.”

The Tooth Fairy’s eyes blurred. It was either sweat, or tears of gratitude. He popped open the can and drained it in one draught. God, it was more restorative than plasma on the battlefield. He said, “Your daddy is a very smart man. What does he do?”

“He works for a landscaping company.”

The Tooth Fairy was impressed with her careful and precise pronunciation. Most modern kids can’t handle words over one syllable. Susie went on. “Sometimes he lets me come with him. My mommy’s in Heaven, so it’s just me and Daddy.”

Just then a soft snore came from the next room. The Tooth Fairy flew over and peeked through the wall to behold a deeply tanned wiry man, sound asleep on his back, no sheet, underpants only. An old fan on top of a scarred dresser made a futile attempt to move air in the hot room. The Quinones family had no air conditioners.

“Wow. How do you do that?” a wide-eyed Susie asked as the fairy pulled his head back through the wall.

“It’s a gift, kid. We have to be able to go through windows and stuff, you know.”

Susie considered that for a moment and nodded. “Of course. Otherwise you couldn’t do your job.”

Smart kid, the Tooth Fairy thought. He flitted over to the opposite wall, which was covered with Susie’s artwork. Colored pushpins also held numerous homework papers and tests with “A+” and “Good job” enthusiastically penned at the top. The child was apparently an engaged student. He studied her drawings and thought they were unusually mature in both composition and color, not the usual blocky stick figures with insipid smiles. The kid had some talent. A lot, actually.

“Do you like to draw,” he asked.

“No. I love to draw,” the child answered emphatically. “It helps me tell everyone what I feel.”

“That’s what words are for, kid.”

“I know, but I can say so much more in a picture.”

The Tooth Fairy surveyed the gallery wall once more. The kid had a point. She was that good.

“Keep it up, Susie. You might just have a future.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fairy. I’m glad you like my pictures.”

“So what are you going to do with your all tooth money? I’ll probably be back here, well, let me see. Open up.”

Susie obligingly opened her mouth wide to let him count. “...19 more times.”

“I’m going to buy Mrs. Wiggins a cane,” she answered. “She lives next door. She’s really old and has trouble walking. I like her because she’s always so nice to me. She needs a cane.”

“Aren’t you going to get anything for yourself?”

“I have enough stuff. Besides, Mrs. Wiggins needs that cane more than I need stuff.”

The Tooth Fairy looked around the room. Compared to a lot of children’s bedrooms that were crammed full with toys, stuffed animals, and trendy children’s furniture, Susie’s room was monastically bare. There was a desk, a small bookshelf (full of books, he noted), a nightstand, one large stuffed bear, one small stuffed Cookie Monster, and an easel in one corner. That was it.

         She asked, “Would you like a snack? I can get you a cookie.”

         “Do you like cookies?”
         “I love cookies, but Daddy only lets me have two a day. He says they’re not good for my teeth. What do you think?” This last was said with a hopeful look.

         “In my professional opinion, your daddy’s right. You don’t want your grown-up teeth dropping out, too. I don’t take those. Anyhow, thanks anyway for the cookie, but I gotta go now. I still have more teeth to pick up. Now lie down and close your eyes.”

         “I like you, Mr. Fairy.”

         “I like you too, Susie. Go to sleep so I can get your tooth. It’s under the pillow, right?”

The little girl nodded and obediently flopped back on her pillow. She kept smiling at him. Finally he wiped his hand over his eyes to close them. She took the hint and closed hers in imitation. Soon she was fast asleep.

The Tooth Fairy reached under the pillow and pulled out a tissue, neatly folded and tied with a little pink ribbon. He pinched it to make sure the tooth was in there and put a Golden Dollar in its place. He flew to the window, then stopped. He went over to her desk, quietly tore off a piece of her notepaper, wrote for your cane fund, folded another five dollars in it, and put it next to the tooth dollar.

The Tooth Fairy passed through the screen with a lighter bag and a much lighter heart. What a difference a Susie Quinones makes.