Sugar and Spice

by Sarah Mlynowski

  “Oh, no!” I cry. “Patty! Look! You have to help! Spinny ran up the tree and is stuck between two branches, and he can’t get out!”

  “What?” she says, looking around. “I don’t see Spinny!”

  “Over there!” Jonah says, starting to fake-cry. Jonah is really good at fake-crying. Usually it’s annoying, but not this time. “He’s stuck all the way up there. Poor Spinny!”

  She sniffs the air. “Spinny! Where are you?”

  Ruff! Ruff! Prince cries out from near the tree, helping me out. Good cat!

  “Hurry!” I say. “Spinny is in trouble. He needs you!”

  “I’m coming, Spinny!” the witch yelps. She rushes over to the tree and reaches her arms up. “Jump to me, Spinny. Jump!”

  I motion to Jonah’s licorice belt.

  Take it off! I mouth.

  I need it, he mouths back.

  We need it more, I mouth, and point to the tree.

  Oh! he mouths, finally getting it. He unwraps the belt one, two, twenty times from his waist. Then he tosses me one end, and we start running. Before Patty knows what’s happening, Jonah and I race in opposite directions around the tree, tying her tightly to it and knotting the licorice rope around the back of the trunk.

  Patty unsuccessfully tries to untie herself. “Hey! You tricked me!”

  “I did!” I say. “Trust me, though — if you read the original story, you’d know it was better than what was supposed to happen to you.”

  Ruff! Prince barks.

  “Let me out this instant!” the witch screeches.

  “No can do,” I say. “But you can always eat your way out.”

  She spits on the ground. “Black licorice? Disgusting!”

  “I totally agree,” I call out. I pocket some Skittles for the road and follow my brother and dog into the forest.

  Where are we running to?” Jonah asks.

  “I’m not sure,” I say. “But I want to get as far away from the witch as possible. And if you see that horrible bird, hide!”

  “No kidding,” he says. “Although flying with him was kind of fun.”

  “How was that fun? You threw up!”

  “That part wasn’t fun,” he says. “Obviously. The before part.”

  “When he had his talons in your shoulders?”

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “You’re weird,” I say. Then I have an idea. “Maybe we should go back to the vegetable patches. Remember where we came in? Maybe there’s a portal there.”

  “Oh! Good idea! I think it was that way!” Jonah points to the left.

  But Prince is running to the right. Ruff! Ruff!

  Great. Just what I want to do. Get lost in the forest in the middle of the night.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I ask, looking around wildly. “He’s going the wrong way! And I don’t want Cauliflower to hear him! Prince, come back!”

  But he keeps going. “We have to follow him,” Jonah says, and bolts after our puppy.

  We start running, pushing tree branches out of our way. Suddenly, I see two people — one man and one woman — standing in a clearing and looking all around. They’re holding lanterns.

  “They have to be here somewhere!” the man says in a frantic voice. “Hansel! Gretel! Where are you? It’s Dad!”

  Oh!

  Their father is looking for them. His forehead is all crinkled with worry. He looks a lot like Hansel. An older Hansel. Which means he also kind of looks like an older Jonah, and a little like my dad. So weird.

  I’m worried at first that the woman at his side is the evil stepmom. I notice that she’s wearing a tan uniform with a tall hat. A shiny gold badge on her chest reads OFFICER GREENMONT. In the hand that’s not holding the lantern, she’s carrying what looks like a white slingshot.

  Is she a police officer?

  Ruff! Prince barks at them. Ruff-ruff!

  Hansel and Gretel’s dad looks in the direction of the barks. So does Officer Greenmont. They see us!

  “Officer! There they are!” the father says, his face lighting up. “Hansel! Gretel! We found you!”

  Oops. He thinks we’re his kids.

  The father and the policewoman run over to us.

  “I’m so happy to see you!” their dad says, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m so sorry I let Stephanie leave you here. I don’t know what I was thinking. Will you ever forgive me?”

  As he’s about to hug us, I step back. “Wait! Sir, we’re not Hansel and Gretel! I know we look like your kids, but it’s not us.”

  “Huh?” he asks, peering at me and then at Jonah.

  “My brother, Jonah? See? His eyebrows aren’t as bushy as Hansel’s,” I point out. “And I don’t have the mole Gretel has on her left cheek.” I tap my cheek. “And we’re not as skinny as they are.”

  The father lifts up his lantern, leans in closer, and studies us. “Holy moly! You’re NOT Gretel,” he says to me. He stares at Jonah, tilting his head left and then right. “And you’re not Hansel!” His face falls. “So how do you know so much about them? And where are they?”

  “It’s kind of a funny story,” I say. Although I’m not sure how funny he’s going to find the notion of his kids going via tree to another world. “But we’re pretty sure they’re somewhere safe. We’ll go get them and tell them to meet you back at your cottage.”

  “We’ll come, too,” the officer says, squaring her shoulders.

  “They went through the —” Jonah says.

  I give him a look. “No, I don’t think you can. Sorry!” Imagine if the officer and Hansel and Gretel’s dad went through the portal and ended up in our house, too? We’d lose screen time for a year.

  Jonah seems to realize his mistake and says, “I promise we’ll get them back to you really soon.”

  “And anyway,” I add, “you guys need to pop by the witch’s house. You know — Patty? She, um, kidnapped us and then tried to eat us. We tied her with licorice to a tree, but we’re not sure how long that will hold.”

  “Got it,” the officer says, saluting me. “Thanks, kids. We’ve been eyeing her for the mysterious disappearance of kids for a while. We’ll take her to the station.”

  Hansel and Gretel’s dad nods. “Please tell Hansel and Gretel that they never have to worry about Stephanie again. We’re getting divorced. I can’t stay with a woman who wants me to abandon my children.”

  “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “That’s probably wise.” No need to go into the whole I-think-she’s-about-to-die part, right?

  Tweet! Tweet-tweet!

  We all look up. It’s the white snowbird — Cauliflower! It’s flying right toward us with a gleaming, evil look in its eye.

  “Everyone hide!” the policewoman calls out. “That bird is dangerous.”

  We all run for cover.

  I grab Jonah, and we press our backs against a large tree. Prince crouches down beside us. Hansel and Gretel’s dad dives behind another tree.

  Officer Greenmont pulls out her slingshot and starts shooting pebbles at the bird.

  She just misses.

  “Ahh,” she mutters. “I’m out. Does anyone have anything else I can shoot?”

  Why are people in this fairy tale always running out of pebbles? Wait. I have something. I reach into my jean pockets. “Here!” I cry. “Take my Skittles!” I’ll just keep one for myself. I put one in my back pocket. Two. Three, and that’s it.

  She grabs the rest from my hand. “Thanks!”

  She shoots once, twice, three times …

  And scores! She hits Cauliflower smack in the beak. He comes crashing to the ground, and then she throws a net over him.

  There are feathers poking out of the net.

  “Oh, tweet!” the bird screeches. “I can’t believe you caught me!”

  “I can’t believe you talk!” I say.

  “Why wouldn’t I talk?” he asks.

  “I … I don’t know,” I say. Fairy lands are weird.

  “Why are you helping Patty?” the po
lice woman asks.

  “She pays me in sunflower seeds, and in return, I protect her vegetable fields and arrange the sale of her vegetables.”

  “Now that she’s going to jail, her farms will belong to everyone,” Officer Greenmont says. “Her jewels, too.”

  “You’re the worst,” Cauliflower cries. “And you can’t trap me. I need to be free! I’m a bird!”

  “You’ll always be a bird,” the officer says. “But from now on, you’re going to be a jailbird.”

  “Hah!” Jonah laughs.

  Even Hansel and Gretel’s dad laughs.

  The officer smiles at him.

  Hmm. I wonder if she could be stepmother number two someday. A much nicer one.

  I’m getting ahead of myself.

  “We gotta go,” I say. “We’re going to get Hansel and Gretel back to you.”

  “Please do,” the dad calls. “Tell them I’ll be at the police station, waiting!”

  I nod, and Jonah and I rush off toward the magic spinach patch.

  But instead we come to a pond. It looks calm and beautiful at night. The reflection of the moon on the water makes it look like there are two moons.

  Prince barks and laps at the water.

  “Was this here before?” Jonah asks. “I don’t remember going for a swim.”

  “We went the other way, remember?” I say worriedly. We don’t have time for this! I look at my watch. It’s five o’clock back home. Five! O’clock! School is done! It’s almost dinnertime! “The pond is huge. It’ll take an hour for us to walk around it.” I can’t even see the sides of the pond — that’s how big it is.

  “Maybe someone left a boat somewhere around here,” Jonah says.

  We scan the darkness for something that might float. A canoe would be good. Not that a canoe worked out so well for us in The Frog Prince.

  But maybe there’s a log … Or a helicopter.

  “There’s nothing but leaves,” I cry. “And twigs. We could make a raft out of sticks.”

  Prince picks up a twig in his mouth and drops it at my feet. Aww. What a good cat-dog.

  But seriously, how are we going to get across that pond?

  “Abby, look!” Jonah cries, pointing.

  “What?” I ask.

  I gasp.

  A large black-and-white duck with a bright yellow beak is coasting right through the watery moon and across the pond.

  “Do you think it’s evil?” Jonah asks.

  I smile with relief. “No. It’s the duck from the original story! The one that gave Hansel and Gretel a piggyback ride — make that a duckyback ride — across the lake to their house! Hello! Ms. Duck?” I call out. “Hello?”

  “Why do you think it’s a girl?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be a girl?”

  “I bet you one lollipop that it’s a boy,” Jonah says.

  “Jonah! Did you take a lollipop on our way out?”

  “I took my lollipop on our way out.”

  I snort-laugh. “I do not want your sock-drawer, Prince-licked lollipop.”

  “Your loss, fancy-pants.”

  The duck starts swimming over to us.

  “Wow, that’s one big duck,” Jonah says as the duck reaches the shore. “I think we can all fit on its back.”

  “Hello there, duck,” I say. “Do you think you could give us a ride across the pond? We’re in a big rush.”

  Please, please, please don’t be an evil minion working for Patty, I think.

  “Sure,” the duck says, and swims closer.

  It talks?

  It talks.

  It edges sideways so we can all climb on.

  “You don’t work for the witch, do you?” Jonah asks before we get on the duck’s feathery back.

  “No,” it says.

  “As if it would tell you if it did,” I mutter.

  “Are you a girl or a boy?” Jonah asks. “Settle a bet?”

  “Girl,” the duck says.

  “Wahoo!” I say. “Pay up.”

  Jonah hands over his gross lollipop. “This is going in a trashcan as soon as I see one,” I tell him.

  “But it’s still good!”

  I roll my eyes. We pile onto the duck, and Prince gets in my lap. The duck doesn’t sink. In fact, she quacks a song the entire way across the pond.

  “Ms. Duck, can I ask you another question?” Jonah says as she’s paddling across.

  “Sure,” the duck responds.

  “Are you good at duckball? I mean, you must be because you’re a duck.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever played duckball, but I AM really good at ducking,” Ms. Duck says. “Watch me!” She ducks under the water, taking us with her.

  “No!” I yell as I’m pulled under.

  Too late.

  She pops up.

  We’re all soaked. Prince barks loudly.

  I turn around and give my brother a dirty look.

  “Sorry,” he says, shaking his wet hair off his forehead. But his eyes are gleaming and he doesn’t look sorry at all.

  * * *

  When we get to the other side, we thank Ms. Duck and slide off her back. Then we run to the fence around the vegetable fields.

  We climb back over the fence. With no bird to stop us, it’s easy peasy, vegetable squeasy.

  I look at my watch. GAH! It’s 6:45 P.M. at home! The middle of dinnertime. Our parents have to be freaking out.

  We’ve been gone almost nineteen hours. By this point there are probably hundreds of police cars combing the streets. They’ve probably shown our pictures on the news.

  I hope they didn’t use my class picture from this year. I was not having a good hair day.

  I feel a lump in my throat. Who cares about my picture? Our poor parents. They’re probably really, really worried.

  “This better work,” I say frantically as we approach the spinach patch. “Otherwise we’ll have to move in forever with Hansel and Gretel’s dad.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jonah says. “If we stayed here, we would totally live in the candy house. It’s empty!”

  “Good point,” I say.

  We look at all the rows and rows of vegetables. There are at least a hundred rows each way, making a square. So like a thousand different patches.

  “So which one did we come out of?” Jonah asks.

  “I know it was a spinach patch,” I say.

  “Um, there are a lot of spinach patches,” Jonah says, gesturing around.

  I nod. “There sure are. I think it was somewhere in the middle-ish?” Oh my goodness. Are we going to have to knock on all the patches? That’s going to take forever. And what if it doesn’t even work?

  “Wait. Abby!” Jonah says. “Let’s look for my baseball hat!”

  I roll my eyes impatiently. “Of course, I want you to find your hat, Jonah. But we really have to focus on getting home. We can always get another hat.”

  Jonah pokes me in the side. “Yeah, but this hat will be sitting right where we came out. So if we find the hat …”

  “We find the spinach patch,” I finish. Duh. “Smart thinking, Jonah!”

  “Thanks,” he says, and smiles.

  The two of us walk separately through the patches, carefully studying the ground, until my brother hollers, “Here it is! I found it! My hat!”

  Prince and I run over as Jonah places the Cubs cap squarely on his wet head. He points to the patch on his left. “That’s it, right, Abby?”

  “I think so,” I say, squeezing his shoulder. “Good job.”

  Prince looks at us and barks. Then he jumps on the spinach patch and smashes his paw against it.

  It turns purple and starts to spin.

  Oh! “Look! Maryrose is opening it for us. Wahoo!” I cry, filled with relief.

  “Yes!” Jonah shrieks. “Bye, Vegetopia!”

  Jonah and I hold hands. Prince is ready to jump. And on my count of three, we all leap in.

  CLUNK!

  The three of us
land right on the basement floor. Home, sweet home.

  I’ve never been so happy to see the basement of our house in my entire life.

  “Should we try to talk to Maryrose?” Jonah gasps as we scramble to our feet. “To find out where Hansel and Gretel are?”

  I look around the basement. It’s empty. No Hansel and Gretel here.

  “Let’s just show our faces to Mom and Dad and make sure we’re not in huge trouble or that the police aren’t searching all over Smithville for us,” I say.

  But they must be. We’ve been gone all day.

  “Right,” Jonah says. “Let’s go. Come on, Prince!”

  Jonah and I go racing up the stairs. I hear voices coming from the kitchen. My mom and dad. Are they talking about us? Wondering where we could possibly be?

  No. They’re not, actually.

  “I’ve always loved creamed spinach,” my mom is saying. “Even as a kid. I could eat an entire bowl of it!”

  I hear laughter.

  “I was like that with mashed potatoes,” my dad is saying. “I could eat two bowls full. Especially with sour cream. Mmm. I’ve always loved sour cream.”

  I stop just to the side of the kitchen doorway, out of sight. I look at Jonah and hold a finger up to my lips.

  Now my dad is telling some story about getting caught feeding his Brussels sprouts to his dog when he was a kid.

  Huh? Why are they talking about vegetables? Why are they laughing? Shouldn’t there be a search party out looking for us?

  We’ve been missing for almost nineteen hours! Has my horrible class picture not been featured on the nightly news?

  “Abby, honey, can you pass the steak?” I hear my mom say.

  Wait. What? Did she just say Abby? Who is she talking to? There is no way my mom can see me from where I’m standing. I inch closer to the doorway.

  “Sure, Mom!” I hear a voice say. A voice that sounds a lot like mine. Except it’s not my voice. Obviously.

  It’s GRETEL’S.

  I stare at Jonah. He stares back, his eyes huge.

  We peer around the edge of the doorway. My parents are sitting at the table in their usual spots.

  Guess who are in our usual spots?

  HANSEL AND GRETEL!

  They’re wearing our clothes.