“Make a careful reading of it,” Clover muttered.
Chrissy waved away his words, deeming them unnecessary. “Most of the contract is written in longwinded legalese that’s hard to understand. Basically what you need to know is this: Wishes are permanent and their consequences are real and lasting. You can’t wish for more wishes or vague generalities like being popular or happy.
“Your wish has to be something tangible. Something I can actually make happen. Oh, and I wouldn’t recommend wishing for magical powers. My last charge asked for the ability to change things into gold and then got all upset when she had to face an evil, megalomaniac fairy who wanted to kill her because of it. Seriously, sometimes mortals are so hard to please.”
“Um . . .” I said. “What was that about an evil, megalomaniac fairy?”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s not a problem anymore.” Chrissy kept unrolling. “One more thing. Since you didn’t earn your fairy by doing a good deed, you have to pay attention to the honesty clause. While I’m acting as your fairy godmother, if you tell a lie—” She stopped unrolling and ran a finger down the words on the scroll, searching. “They just changed the consequences again because a bunch of tree nymph lobbyists worried about fire hazards . . . oh, here it is. ‘If thou tellest a lie, thy nose shall grow and stay protruded until thou doth correct thine untruth.’”
I touched my nose gingerly. “Does that hurt?”
She shrugged. “Why? Are you the dishonest type?”
“No,” I said quickly. I wasn’t. But everyone tells white lies occasionally. The no-I-don’t-think-your-boyfriend-is-a-jerk sort of thing. It would be horrifying if my nose randomly grew an inch during a casual conversation. “How long will you be acting as my fairy godmother?”
“That depends on how long it takes you to use your wishes.”
Even with the threat of possible nose growth, I didn’t want to turn down her offer. I mean, having magic wishes could solve so many of my problems. I would just have to be careful to be completely honest.
Chrissy reached the end of the scroll and handed it to me. While I scanned the long looping words, she pulled a quill from her purse and handed it to me too.
I hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment. Any dangers magic might present were dwarfed by the thought of my audition going viral. People were going to do remixes of my audition. I couldn’t let that happen. I signed my name and handed the quill and contract back to Chrissy. She tugged on the end of the scroll, and it rolled up like a window shade.
“Now then,” she said, tucking the scroll back in her purse. “What do you wish for?”
Easy. “Can you change something that’s already happened? Can you make me do great on my audition—so good, I win the show?”
Her lips pursed in dissatisfaction. “That sort of time travel is tricky. If I change the audition, you would no longer qualify under the pitiable and wretched outreach program, which would mean I couldn’t be your fairy godmother, which would mean I couldn’t grant you that wish in the first place. Do you see the paradox that creates?” She fluttered pink fingernails in my direction. “Please spare me the paperwork. The paradox office is a hassle to work with.”
There had to be a way to get around that. “If I wished it, could you make the tape of my audition self-destruct, then make the show give me another audition, and make my voice perfect from now on?”
“Yes.” Chrissy raised her wand. “That’s three wishes. Is it what you want?”
Behind me, Clover cleared his throat. “Psst. Scrub Brush, you might want to think that over a wee bit more carefully.”
“No, those aren’t my wishes,” I answered. I hadn’t realized how fast I could spend them. I needed to phrase things better so I only used one wish. If I said “I wish to win the America’s Top Talent competition,” Chrissy would have to work whatever magic necessary to make that happen, and I would only use one wish.
Then again, what if my wish made the audition go so viral the show offered to make me an honorary winner as a publicity technique. That wouldn’t actually make things any better.
“Listen, lass,” Clover padded across the bed until he stood in my line of sight. “Don’t just think on what will make you happy now. Choose something that will still be making you happy ten years from now.” He nodded knowingly and looped his thumbs through the buttonholes of his jacket. “Gold is a popular choice.”
Clover was right. I needed to look at the big picture. I didn’t want to just win the America’s Top Talent show. That had always been a stepping stone to my real goal—being a successful singer.
Chrissy glanced at her bracelet, and I noticed a watch face nestled among the twisting beads. “I hate to rush you,” she said, “because I’m the kind of godmother who is compassionate, thorough, and understanding—and please remember to use those words should you be contacted by the FGA with a customer satisfaction survey—but I’ve got to go soon. I have a job interview.”
Clover let out an amused scoff. “What is it you’ll be interviewing for this time? Another stint as a tooth fairy?”
“No,” she said with an offended sniff. “Used teeth are totally disgusting. I’m applying for a part-time position as an insomnia fairy.”
“Insomnia fairy?” I asked. “There are fairies for that?”
Chrissy’s wings spanned open and closed. “It’s not widely known among mortals. People who know about us get all uppity and do totally unreasonable things like bar their windows with iron and try to zap us with dark magic.”
She smoothed her shirt and flecks of glitter sprinkled on the floor. Housekeeping would wonder what I’d done in this room. “People always wish they had more time to get things done, but no one is ever grateful when we give it to them.”
Probably because no one wants to get anything done at 2:00 a.m. except sleep. I didn’t say this. I just made a mental note never to wish I had more time.
Chrissy checked her watch again. “I can only stay a few more minutes.”
I opened my mouth to wish to be a famous rock star and then decided on different wording. I’d heard a few rock stars whose voices weren’t that great. They had to rely on autotune to produce decent albums, and every time they performed live they sounded bad. I needed more talent—so much talent I never had to worry about messing up during a number again.
“I wish to have such a beautiful voice,” I said slowly, “that I’m famous, adored for generations, and . . .” I hadn’t meant to add the next part. The words came out impulsively, as though they wanted to be said. “. . . loved by Jason Prescott.”
Granted, the guy had criticized me on national television, but he’d only said those things because he didn’t know me. I wasn’t the type of girl who had things handed to her. I practiced long and hard. If he got to know me, he would see that.
Chrissy lifted her wand. “You don’t want to use a wish to erase your audition tape? It will go viral if you don’t.”
I shook my head. “I can live through that as long as I know I’ll have a voice I’m famous and loved for.” A sort of giddy excitement filled me, warming my thoughts. I would not only become a rock star, I’d be one with real, lasting talent.
I suddenly regretted not giving a timeframe to my wish. It wouldn’t do me a lot of good if I didn’t become a great singer until I was sixty. As Chrissy waved her wand, I called out, “How long will it take?”
Hundreds of sparks burst from the tip of the wand, surrounding me until the hotel room disappeared behind the winking lights. “Not long,” she said.
The tingle of magic brushed against my skin. Everything seemed weightless, as though I was floating. Cloudlike wisps curled around me, and ribbons of sunrise-colored steam twisted through the lights. What would it be like to be famous? How was it going to happen? I could hardly wait to try out my beautiful new voice.
As the lights cleared, I had one glimpse of a cloudy sky above me, and the next moment I plunged downward into cold water.