My Unfair Godmother (12 page)

They grew brighter until Chrissy stepped out of their middle. She wore the same tutu she’d had on earlier, and this time I noticed a name tag over her heart that read
Chrysanthemum
.

She flopped down on my bed and kicked her satin slippers off. “I swear, working for the tooth fairy is the worst job ever.” She held out her arm for me to see. A few inches up from her wrist, a broken red circle marked her skin. “Look at this. A boy bit me while I was trying to take his tooth.” She leaned her head back on the wall dramatically.

“And then my supervisor got all mad at me for turning him into a squid.”

“You turned him into a squid?”

“I put him in an aquarium first,” Chrissy said. “It’s not like there were any piranha in there. Guppies have never hurt anyone.”

“You turned someone into a squid?” I asked again.

“Don’t say it like that. I turned him back. At the end of my shift.

He probably had fun. What child doesn’t want to be a squid?” She flourished her hand in my direction. “I bet you wanted to be a squid when you were little.”

“Um … I wanted to be a mermaid.”

“Close enough.” She turned her arm over to examine the welt.

“This is going to leave a nasty bruise, and the other fairies will never let me live it down. Jade Blossom was all, ‘Maybe tomorrow night you can remember that teeth are supposed to go in your purse, not your arm.’ ” Chrissy rubbed a finger against the wound. “You’d think they’d encourage efficiency at Tooth Fairy, Inc., but no, I got a written rep-rimand for taking a tooth that wasn’t officially underneath a pillow.” 109/356

Her words didn’t make sense. “Where was it?” She tugged at the lace on her sleeve until it covered the red mark.

“The tooth was supposed to come out of that kid three days ago, but he refused to pull it. He was just being stubborn.” Chrissy brushed some glitter off her skirt and it drifted to the floor in a minty wave. “I got tired of showing up night after night to see if he’d gotten around to losing it yet. I mean, I have a busy route. He was wasting my time.” I tilted my head. “You didn’t pull it out of his mouth, did you?” She blinked at me innocently. “It was just dangling there.”

“Wow,” I said. “Somewhere out there is a little boy who will never sleep soundly again.”

She fluttered her hand dismissively. “He had fun being a squid. I could tell by the way he was waving his tentacles around.” She opened her purse, rummaged through something—I wondered if it was the night’s haul of teeth—then pulled out her wand. Her gaze traveled around my room. “I see my assistant decided not to come. Honestly, the things the UMA puts me through.” Still looking around, Chrissy huffed in exasperation. “Belladonna Spritzpetal can claim it’s my grades that are keeping me out of Fairy Godmother University, but it’s not. It’s because I dumped Master Sagewick Goldengill’s son. Why else would the UMA give me the same worthless leprechaun for three assignments in a row?” She tapped her wand angrily against her knee, as though if she flicked it enough times, Clover would appear.

“How come you and Clover don’t get along?” I asked.

She hesitated, and I thought she wouldn’t tell me, but then she said, “During our first assignment, our teenage charge was being threatened by some neighborhood gangsters. I rounded up the lot of them and told Clover to turn them in to the police.” She pursed her lips as if even the memory aggravated her.

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“He didn’t do it?” I guessed.

“Apparently I should have said I wanted them turned
over
to the police instead of
into
the police. He claimed he didn’t understand what I meant.” She let out a grunt. “That bit of magic messed up Chicago for years.”

“He turned the gangsters into police officers?”

“In my defense, who would have ever thought that using correct grammar would actually come in handy in real life? I mean, nobody pays attention to it during English classes.” My gaze shot to my window. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see outside, but I looked anyway. “And you put Clover in charge of sending the Merry Men back in time?”

“Oh, I doubt he messed that up. Even Clover has to get something right every once in a while.” She lifted her wand. “So you’re ready to make your final wish?”

I nodded, nervous. My carefully planned words jumbled together in my mouth, and I spoke slowly in order to straighten them out. “I want something like the Midas touch, but more controllable. I wish I could create gold, but only when I want to.” Chrissy raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You decided you could buy friends after all?”

“I decided that if I didn’t have any, well, at least I can be lonely in a new Porsche.”

Chrissy laughed, then stretched her shoulders. “Mortals are so de-lightfully predictable. It’s a wonder they make any of us go to godmother school in the first place. They could just issue us magical ATMs and be done with it. You wouldn’t believe the hours of new-invention homework they gave us. Totally worthless. No one ever asks for a better mousetrap.” She waved her wand in my direction, and tiny falling stars dropped from the ceiling and surrounded me like 111/356

wandering butterflies. “Get some sleep,” she told me. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

Then she and the lights both vanished.

I sat quietly on my bed for a few moments, trying to decide if I felt any different. My fingers felt exactly the same. Ditto for the rest of me.

I wished Chrissy had told me how to use my new power before she poofed away. I slipped off the bed, went to my dresser, and picked up a picture of Kendall and me as little girls. Concentrating, I tried to turn the frame to gold.

Nothing happened.

I tried a pencil, a paper clip, and a pair of socks. Still nothing. But then, Chrissy had said I would have a big day tomorrow, so maybe the gift didn’t kick in until then. It was aggravating beyond belief to have to turn off the light and go to bed.

• • •

Nick banged on my door in the morning to wake me up. When I didn’t answer, he opened the door. He was already dressed. “Your alarm didn’t go off because the electricity is out, but you need to hurry, or you’ll be late to school.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost seven thirty.”

He left, and I staggered out of bed, got ready for school, and went to the kitchen to grab something for breakfast.

Dad and Sandra were in their bathrobes, sitting at the table eating cereal. The library didn’t open until nine o’clock, so they always left for 112/356

work after we’d gone to school. I sat down and poured myself some raisin bran.

“Drink a glass of milk,” Sandra said, sliding one to me. “It builds strong bones, and besides, it won’t keep long with the power out.” Dad didn’t say anything. I wondered if he was going to pretend I didn’t exist, like he’d done most of yesterday.

Nick walked to the front door, backpack slung over his shoulder.

He opened it, and I waited to hear the door click shut behind him. It didn’t happen. Instead, he called out, “Mom, Frank, you’d better come see this.”

“What is it?” Sandra asked. Neither she nor Dad moved from the table, but I jumped up and hurried to the front door.
Chrissy is here
, I thought. She must have realized she never gave me directions on how to turn things into gold, and now I’d have to explain her wings to everyone. My thoughts didn’t take me further than that. Because it wasn’t Chrissy. It wasn’t a person at all.

It was the neighborhood. It was gone.

Chapter 8

The street that ran by our house … didn’t anymore. My neighbors’

homes had vanished too. In their place a dirt path wound its way through towering, leafy trees. A brook ran by our yard, and a cylindric-al stone building stood next to our garage. Farther down the path, a few cottages poked out of the trees. A couple of the cottages were built of pale gray stone, but the rest were thatch. The scene looked like a storybook picture of the Middle Ages.

“How did those get there?” I asked.

Behind me, I heard the sound of a glass hitting the entryway tile.

Milk droplets splashed around my shoes. Sandra gasped. “What happened?”

My father pushed past me to go outside, but Sandra grabbed hold of his bathrobe sleeve. “Don’t go out there!” My father pulled away from her and stepped onto our front porch.

He looked around with a stern expression. “This isn’t right.” His brows furrowed at Nick. “How did this happen?” Nick held up his hands as though my dad had accused him of hiding the neighborhood. “I didn’t do anything. I just opened the door and this was here.”

A horrible, sick feeling came over me. This was Chrissy’s doing. I didn’t know why or what it meant, but it had to be Chrissy’s doing. You didn’t wake up one day to accidentally find your house transplanted into the Middle Ages.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “This might be a good time for me to mention that I have a fairy godmother. Well, she’s actually only a
fair
godmother.”

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My father’s eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a tight line.

“What are you talking about?”

I took a step back from him. This was not the facial expression I’d looked forward to seeing when I told him about my wish. “I didn’t ask for this,” I said. “I asked for a more controlled version of the Midas touch. I’m supposed to be able to turn things into gold. I don’t know why we’re here.”

All three of them stared at me for a moment, then my father said,

“You did what?”

I sighed. I’d heard that question too many times during the last few days. I shut the front door, then calmly told the whole story, even about Robin Hood and using my second wish to send him back to Sherwood Forest. I also told about the lights that circled my head if I lied. When I finished, my father grunted in disbelief. “That’s impossible. Fairies and leprechauns don’t exist.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” I pointed to my head. “See? No lights.” My father put his hands on his hips. “There is a logical explanation for this, and it doesn’t involve magic.” I put my hands on my hips to match his stance. “I love the way you always listen to me.”

Lights ignited around my head, shooting sparks down around my shoulders. It felt like I was wearing a hat made of birthday candles.

Nick, Sandra, and my dad all gaped. I knew what they were reading.

“See, that was a lie,” I said. “Actually, I
don’t
love the way you
never
listen to me.”

The sparks vanished.

My father walked to the living room couch and sank into it. He rubbed his forehead in bewilderment. Sandra pressed a trembling hand against her lips. “Oh my,” she said, and the words sounded lost and lonely, hovering between the four of us.

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Nick joined my father, sitting down on the couch with a thud.

“What are we supposed to do now?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? “Chrissy must have granted me the wrong wish. I’ll call her. Sometimes it takes her a while to answer, but eventually she’ll come and fix this.”

“You’re sure it’s the wrong wish?” Nick asked. “You didn’t ask for this by mistake?”

“I think I would have remembered asking her to drop my house into the Middle Ages.” I looked around the room, and called,

“Chrissy!”

Nothing happened. Everyone waited for a few moments.

“How long does it take her to answer?” Nick asked.

I shrugged. “Sometimes a few days.”

Nick groaned and put his hand over his eyes. Sandra went to the door and locked it. “We’ll stay inside. We have food in the pantry, and the water heater is full. Fifty gallons. If we ration it, it should last us for a couple of weeks.”

My father didn’t move from the couch. “This isn’t happening,” he said. “This sort of thing doesn’t happen.” A small puff of smoke went off on the coffee table, drifting like a green rain cloud over the magazines. When it dispersed, Clover stood on a stack of
National Geographic
magazines. His shabby green jacket had an extra dirt stain or two that he might have picked up while tromping around our yard pursuing the Merry Men.

Dad, Sandra, and Nick stared at the leprechaun in shocked silence.

Clover nodded at me. “Chrissy asked me to check in on you.” He put his hands behind his back, taking in the room and my gawking family. “Looks like everything is going well, so I’ll be off to the pub.” 116/356

“Wait!” I knelt down in front of the coffee table to be closer to his eye level. “How can you say things are going well when my house is in the Middle Ages? Why are we here?”

“Oh, that.” Clover brushed some dirt off his jacket sleeve. “The last time Chrissy sent someone off to a fairy tale, the lass did nothing but complain about the living conditions. No refrigerators, no soft beds, no comfortable shoes. It was constant whining.” Clover gave me a self-satisfied smile. “So now you have your bed and your fridge and you’ve no reason to blather on about your suffering.”

“I didn’t wish to be in a fairy tale,” I said pointedly. “I wished for the power to change things into gold. And besides, the fridge won’t work without electricity.”

Clover’s brows furrowed at this information. “Ah, well in that case, you’d best go invent some electricity. Isn’t that what mortals are best at? Innovation? I’m sure it will take you no time at all.” My hands clenched around the end of the coffee table. The sharp edge bit into my palms. “You need to send us back home.”

“Chrissy will send you home,” Clover said, straightening his hat.

“As soon as your fairy tale is done.” And then he vanished.

“Clover, come back!” I reached out and felt through the magazines as though he might be hiding underneath them. The papers rustled an empty protest.

He didn’t come back.

My father kept staring at the coffee table in astonishment. “You were telling the truth.” I assumed his astonishment was because of the magic and not because he thought I was incapable of telling the truth.