You’ve not only ruined our dramatic entrance”—she 65/431
glanced down at her wristwatch—“you’ve seriously cut into my shopping time with my friends.” He waved a piece of Ding Dong at her. “We’re a leprechaun and a fairy. We can’t make an entrance without it being dramatic.”
Still looking at her wristwatch she said, “I will say this much for you, you’re getting more efficient. We’re just minutes into this assignment and you’ve already made a mess of it.”
“That’s it.” The leprechaun stood up and brushed off his jacket. “I’d rather walk to Ireland than help you.”
“Fine,” she said. “It’s a long trip. You’d better get started.”
He raised his chin, took a few steps down my bedspread, then turned around, walked back to my Ding Dong, and broke off another piece. “Now I’m going.” With one last humph, he completely disappeared.
I stared at the spot on my bedspread, trying to see something—some sign that he was still there.
The fairy walked over to me. “You don’t need to worry about him. He probably just went to play poker with the computer gremlins. You know how leprechauns are.” I didn’t, but I nodded anyway.
She smiled at me. “Well, you’ve already met my ex-assistant, Clover Bloomsbottle. Did he tell you that I’m here to grant you three wishes?” 66/431
My mouth hung open for a moment. “Me? Why?” Another smile. I noticed she had perfect teeth. “Fairies have a long and rich history of helping deserving maidens. And besides, I needed an extra-credit project.” She put her hands together. “Now that I’m officially your Fair Godmother you can call me Chrissy. Chrysanthemum Everstar is much too long, don’t you think?”
“Fair
Godmother?
Don’t
you
mean
Fairy
Godmother?”
She tossed her hair off one shoulder. “No, actually I’m just a Fair Godmother.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Her wings fluttered, but she looked at her fingernails instead of me. “It means that in Fairy Godmother School my grades weren’t great, or even good. They were just, you know, fair.”
“Oh,” I said.
Her glance shot over to me. “Hey, the exams are hard.
You turn one pumpkin into an angry, bloated walrus and they never let you live it down.” I sat down on the bed. “Um, you’re not going to try and turn me into anything, are you?”
“I don’t have to,” she said, her voice sounding offended. “That all depends on what you wish for, doesn’t it?”
“What can I wish for?” I asked.
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Chrissy pulled a sparklerlike wand from her handbag.
“That’s what I like about today’s teenagers. They’re all business. None of that ‘Oh, thank you, Fair Godmother, for rescuing me from my pathetic life.’ Or ‘I’m unworthy of having such gifts bestowed on me.’ Or even ‘Tell me from whence thou came, Fair Godmother.’ It’s all ‘What will you give me?’ ”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “I’m not ungrateful.
I’m just not sure what to wish for.” She put her wand back in her purse, walked to my bed, and sank down onto it with a sigh. “All right then, let’s hear it. Tell me all about your pathetic life.” Which wasn’t what I’d meant. I’d meant that I wanted to know what the rules were before I flung wishes around, but since she asked, I told her about Hunter and Jane, including the most recent chapter in swimsuit humiliation.
Chrissy shook her head slowly when I’d finished.
“That’s so sad. I can totally relate to the whole prom thing.” She gave a tinkling little laugh as though mentally correcting herself. “Well, actually, I’ve always gone to prom with buff elf guys, but I mean, I can understand how horrible it would be not to go.” She sat up straighter. “So do you want me to change this Hunter guy into a frog?”
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“No,” I answered, aghast. “You can’t go around turning people into frogs.”
“Yes, I can.” She held her wand up. “Do you want to see?”
“No, no. I meant that wouldn’t solve anything.”
“Then what do you want?” She laid her wand across her knees. “Oh, that reminds me, you need to sign this before I grant your wishes.” She opened her purse, pulled out a scroll, and handed it to me. I didn’t see how it had fit in her small purse, and supposed fairy magic must have been involved. She pulled out a quill as well and handed it to me. “The contract,” she told me. “Sign at the bottom X where it reads: Damsel in distress.” I unrolled the scroll, which, besides being quite long, was written in a “thee, thou, and thine” sort of language.
“What does all of this say?” I asked.
“That you get three wishes and only three wishes, that all of them must pertain directly to you—like, you can’t wish for world peace. You can’t wish for more wishes either—everybody tries that, and your wishes must somehow be tangible. Meaning you can’t wish to be lucky or popular or some vague sort of happy. Your wish has to be specific enough that I can actually wave my wand and make it happen.
“Also, side effects may include dizziness, nausea, leth-argy, and an intense desire to eat woodland creatures if, 69/431
during your magical journey, you happen to be turned into a bear. Contact your doctor if symptoms don’t subside after a week, blah, blah, blah. We never had to do all this paperwork in the old days. I tell you, everything changes once lawyers get involved.” She smiled at me and her wings spread out like a butterfly’s. “And one more thing. Since you’re my extra-credit assignment, you didn’t earn your godmother the usual way—by helping poor strangers you met during a quest—so you’ll need to be completely honest until your wishes are finished.”
I shrugged. “Okay, but why?”
She let out a grunt like she couldn’t believe I was asking. “Haven’t you ever read any fairy tales? In the classic stories, maidens who come in contact with fairies and tell lies end up having a nasty enchantment. Reptiles and amphibians drop out of their mouths. It isn’t pleas-ant. I’m just mentioning it because you don’t want to get on the wrong side of magic.”
“Oh.” I put my hand to my mouth. “Thanks for the warning.”
Chrissy picked up her wand and a new wave of sparks shot out the end. “All right then, as soon as you’re done signing you can tell me your first wish.” I unrolled the scroll on my desk and signed my name across the bottom. Then Chrissy picked up the scroll, 70/431
tugged at the end, and it rolled itself up as though it were a window shade. She put it back in her purse and turned to me with a satisfied smile. “All right, what’s your heart’s desire?”
“Well . . .” Now that she asked, I wasn’t quite sure what to say. What did I want? My first thought had been to ask for Hunter to break up with Jane and fall in love with me again. But as soon as I opened my mouth, I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. It wouldn’t make me happy to have him back if he only cared about me because of a magic spell. I wanted someone who liked the real me, even if I was occasionally late and disorganized, and okay, I admit it—I don’t always take school seriously.
So what did that leave as my heart’s desire?
I guess when it came down to it, I wanted to be someplace different. I didn’t know where, just someplace where no one would judge me against Jane-like standards, and where I hadn’t proved to half the school that I was incompetent when it came to difficult tasks like identifying the right dressing room. But I didn’t know where that place was.
I sat down on my bed, suddenly miserable. I wasn’t happy and couldn’t even think of a way to change my life so I would be.