them all back. I may have even told them that fairy godmothers were akin to angels, just waiting to bless the lives of the deserving. But I ask you, since when have the mortal folk been honest with us? It’s never been their way. Deeds for deeds, I say.
I called me friend Rumpelstiltskin, and he sent them back right quickly, he did.
Yours,
Clover T. Bloomsbottle
Chapter 20
Jane and Hunter looked as they had on many school mornings: jeans, tennis shoes, and backpacks on their shoulders. But streaks of dirt smudged their clothes, and the knee of Jane’s jeans was torn. They looked tired and frazzled, and seeing them made it seem that the world had suddenly ripped open, mixing old with new, blend-ing the centuries together.
Tristan turned to me, a look of accusation darkening his eyes. “You sent them here too?”
“I didn’t!” I said, then turned to Jane. “What are you doing here?”
Frustration flashed across her face. Her eyes had a panicked look, a loss of composure that wasn’t like her.
She dropped her backpack onto the floor. “That’s how you greet me? I’ve just spent the last two hours wandering around a forest in the dark—which I’m sure was your leprechaun’s idea of a joke— and we never even would have found the village if it hadn’t been for the church bell and the bonfire. And I kept falling down, and my jeans are ripped, and now we’ve finally found you and you ask me what I’m doing here?” Her voice spiraled in volume. “This is the Middle Ages, Savannah.
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This is not a safe place for a teenage girl. It’s dangerous.
It has the plague, and wars, and—”
“One less monster.” Hunter took a step toward Tristan. He held up his hand to give Tristan a high-five.
“Way to go, dude. They’re making up songs in your honor downstairs.”
Jane didn’t take her eyes off me. “Mom and Dad are going to flip out about this. I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but you’ve got to come home. Right.
Now.” Jane folded her arms and finished her lecture with an aggravated breath.
“So you’re admitting that I’m not crazy,” I said.
“What?” she asked.
“You thought I was crazy when I told you about the leprechaun and the Middle Ages. But you opened the package and found out the truth, didn’t you?”
“Okay,” Jane said, cutting me off. “You’re not crazy.
Now will you please come home?”
“Trust me, I want to come home but I’m here until Tristan can leave.”
As calmly as if he were discussing the weather, Tristan added, “I can’t leave until I become a prince.”
“You? You’re the prince?” Jane’s voice took on an agitated edge and she turned in my direction. “You’re not going to get married, are you?” 299/431
“Not to each other,” I said and couldn’t keep my lips from pursing. “Tristan wants to marry Princess Margaret.”
“I don’t want to marry her,” he said. “It’s all part of the deluxe prom package Savannah ordered.” Then I had to explain to Jane and Hunter how my fairy godmother had misunderstood certain statements I’d made and had sent Tristan back in time to become a prince. He still had two tasks left before he could achieve that goal and return to our time.
“Kill a dragon?” Hunter said as though he both envied and feared for Tristan. “Can you do that?”
“I’ve got to.”
Jane shook her head, disbelief seeping into her tone.
“But your leprechaun told us that all you had to do to come home was to ask your fairy godmother.”
“Oh, well, that just means you were duped by a leprechaun,” I said.
Hunter cocked his head and looked at me narrowly.
“Your fairy godmother won’t help you at all?”
“My fairy godmother won’t even take my calls. She’s sort of a teenage, airheaded shopping diva who didn’t pay attention very well in fairy school.” Jane sat down on my bed and rubbed at her forehead wearily. “Well, that figures.” I followed her with my gaze. “Meaning?” 300/431
“They must match fairy godmothers to people by type.
You pretty much just described yourself.”
“I did not,” I said. “I’m not . . .” I ran through the list of qualities I’d just said, deciding which one to protest first. Shopping diva, okay that was sort of me. Didn’t pay attention in school . . . um, ditto for that one. I wasn’t an airhead though, was I?
I thought of all the ways I’d messed things up in the last two days and wasn’t sure. Still, I folded my arms. “I am not like her.” Which was true. I always return my phone messages. “And besides, I didn’t ask you to come.
So if you don’t want to be here why don’t you just call your responsible, punctual fairy godmother and leave?”
“Because I didn’t get a fairy godmother,” Jane said. “I got a creepy little man who may in fact have been Rumpelstiltskin. The leprechaun said your fairy godmother would take all of us back when you asked.” Jane let her hands fall to her sides in exasperation. They were smeared with dirt and tiny scratches ran across them.
“How could you mess up a wish from your fairy godmother?”
Tristan spoke, and his voice had a calmness to it that almost didn’t belong in the room. “What did you bring with you?”
“What?” Jane asked.
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“You knew you were going to the Middle Ages. You must have brought along things you were going to need.
Savannah brought supplies. Things to barter. What’s in your backpacks?”
It was more of a point than a question and Jane blushed at the reprimand.
Hunter said, “We only have our schoolbooks. We didn’t think we were going to stay here.” He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I thought fairies were supposed to be good and do nice things for people.”
Tristan picked up Jane’s backpack from the floor, took it to the bed, and unzipped it. “In the original fairy tales, fairies were often seen as mischievous, dangerous tricksters. They did things like steal children. Smart people didn’t trust them.”
I let out a grunt. “Where were you with that information when I needed it?”
He dumped Jane’s books out onto the bed. Without cracking a smile, he said, “Sitting in my room trying to work up the courage to call you.” Then he put Jane’s pens and pencils into one pile and her books into another. The notebooks he handed to me. “Paper is valuable.
We’ll be able to barter with these at least.” He pulled out a makeup bag, opened it, and shook his head. He tossed it back on the bed along with her cell phone, then 302/431
walked over to Hunter and took his backpack from him.
“Anything in here that could be used to slay a dragon?”
“Paper. Pens. And my lunch.”
“Well, at least you’ll have one good meal in the Middle Ages then.” Tristan took the backpack and looked through it anyway. While he did he said, “Savannah, your job tomorrow is to take Hunter and Jane to the market and buy them clothes so they fit in.” I said, “It takes days, sometimes weeks, to make clothes.”
“Buy them off someone’s back if you have to. I’ll be gone all day at the castle. They’ll want me to tell the story of the cyclops over dinner, and besides, I should practice my archery some more. According to everyone at the castle, the only way to kill a dragon is to shoot a poisoned arrow into its throat. It’s a small target, but it’s the only unarmored part. If I miss, the dragon is likely to swoop down and barbecue me.” A tremor went through me. I hadn’t really thought about Tristan fighting the dragon. But now that he was planning it, I couldn’t help but picture him standing underneath a monstrous dragon with only a bow and arrow for protection. Little waves of panic spread across my chest.