by Anita Valle
I wait.
Not a single sparkle.
And the white magic is gone.
I begin to pace quickly. Drat! Darn it! Papa made me too sure I would have enough magic. I should have asked for a plain carriage or left off ‘graceful’ as one of my enhancements. I should have held back that tantrum yesterday which cost me the last few spoons that I need. All of that would be better than the option facing me.
There’s only one way I’ll get to this ball now. Only one person, one creature who can help me. I’m going to have to call on her. The crazy woman.
I call her Godnutter.
~*~ 12 ~*~
I pace a little longer, trying to think of something else. Oh Papa, please, anything but her! But I know it’s no use. She’s better than nothing – sort of – and I’m desperate. So here goes.
“Fairy Godmother, come to my aid, help me to fix this mess that I’ve made.” Yes, that’s really what she told me to say.
I stare at the starry sky and wait.
“Hello, brat.”
I nearly jump out of my shoes. I whirl around with my hand on my chest. “Crackers, Godnutter, can’t you make a little noise? Stir the wind before you come?”
She’s right behind me, large and solid. Looking, as usual, like she just rolled out of bed. Her gray hair is piled in a lopsided bun with sprays that stick out like weeds. She wears a green dress, slightly crumpled, and her transparent wings point out behind her. And, like always, she’s smoking.
Godnutter laughs, shooting smoke from her mouth. “Good gravy, look at you! What have you done to yourself?”
“What?”
“You look like a creepy doll! We should set you up in a shop window where you can bat those false eyelashes.” She pokes the clay pipe back in her mouth and turns her eyes to the enormous carriage. “Ooh, look at that!”
“They’re not false, it’s white magic! The white magic you gave me to better myself!”
Godnutter rolls her eyes and sucks the long, curling tip of her pipe. “It was supposed to make you a better person. You’ve abused it, muffin.”
“How? You said I couldn’t hurt anyone with it and I haven’t.”
“Not directly, no. But you’ve made yourself so freakishly beautiful that most women feel depressed when they look at you.”
I smile. “That’s good.”
“You’re too obsessed with your appearance.”
“What are you, my mother?”
“No, but unlike you, I knew her. And she would not be proud of you.”
I scowl and fold my arms. “Would she be proud of you?” That gets her. She turns away from me and puffs a cloud of wounded pride.
Godnutter is my mother’s sister. I never knew she existed until my father died when I was twelve. After the burial service, I stood weeping over my father’s grave. Stepmother had not shed a tear, had rebuked me for being ‘emotional’ in public. But when they all left, I found a minute to mourn my father in solitude. Suddenly Godnutter was beside me, pipe and all, and I freaked out.
She explained who she was and told me a sad story. She had once been a human lady, married to a nice man. But they had a terrible quarrel and Godnutter swung a pewter candlestick at his head. He died. And Godnutter, overcome with guilt, had thrown herself off the roof of her house. But it wasn’t high enough. She lay on the pavement, broken and bleeding, waiting to die, when the fairies came.
I have never seen fairies. I’m told they keep to themselves and help us humans in quiet, invisible ways. But the fairies took pity on Godnutter. They said they could not save her human life, but if she became one of them, a fairy, she could help other unfortunate people and make amends for her terrible deed. Godnutter agreed. But, as she liked to tell me, she didn’t know then they would assign her to me.
I remember her offering the crystal decanter. “What is it?” I asked. “Magic,” she whispered. “The fairies tell me you have darkness inside you. Just a kernel, a seedling. But we think that woman, your stepmother, is going to make it grow. You will be tempted to return cruelty for cruelty. And I don’t want you turning out bad, as I did.”
“What do I do with this?” I took the decanter, pleased with its glittering beauty.
“Every time you choose to be good, you’ll receive a little white magic in the bottle. The magic can make your life better in small ways. It can turn a crust of bread into cake. It can heal your body of aches and ills. It can make your heart happy when it should be sad. It can do almost anything you want it to, so long as you do not harm another person.”
“Sure,” I said at the time, because why would I ever want to hurt anyone? “Thank you.” I hoped she would leave me then. I liked the gift but Godnutter was scary.
“Be good, Cinderella, and all will end happily.” Then she freaked me out again by fading into air.
And thus the white magic took over my life.
~*~ 13 ~*~
The first thing I did was turn my rats white. Then I fixed my crooked teeth. Then, just for kicks, I turned a pair of my shoes into gold. But Loony got jealous and stole them away and Stepmother didn’t make her give them back. I started shrinking my feet so my shoes wouldn’t fit her.
Then one day, I heard Stepmother remark to a neighbor that I was “somewhat pretty but nothing special.” And that burnt a hole right through my heart. Papa had always called me beautiful, his little queen. I decided I would make myself so stunning, I really could be queen. The fairest in the land. The idea rooted into my heart, sprouted and flourished and bloomed. I didn’t know how I would meet and marry the prince, but I waited for an opportunity.
And now it’s here.
Godnutter crosses the yard and dumps the ashes of her pipe into the pumpkin patch. “All right, brat, why am I here? What do you want?”
“I want to go to the ball.”
“What ball?”
“Oh gracious, what goes on in fairyland? The prince’s ball!”
Godnutter digs in the pocket of her dress and pulls out a little pouch that holds the stuff she smokes. “Hmm, sounds dreary. Why don’t you stay home and play cards? We could have a nice game of cribbage.”
“Do fairies play cards?”
“All the time, and cheat like thieves.”
“Um, no thanks. I really want to go to the ball.”
“Why?”
“Well, the prince is looking for a new bride and I thought it would be... nice... if he chose me. It could happen. And it would get me away from Stepmother and Loony and Moody.”
“Who?”
“Lunilla and Melodie.”
“That’s what you call them? Ha!” Godnutter cackles, a loud, smoky rattle. She snaps her fingers over the pipe and it lights again. “So have you met this prince?” she mumbles, mouth around the pipe.
“No, not yet.”
“But you want to marry him. Ooh, real smart.”
I sigh heavily. Can’t I have one nice relative? Just one? Is that too much to ask? “I want to be queen, that’s all. I don’t care about the prince.”
Godnutter simply puffs and stares.
“So will you help me?”
“Hmm....” Godnutter blows out a cloud of smoke and watches it sift into the air. “No.”
I clench my teeth. The white magic is gone, I don’t have to be patient. But if I blow up she might disappear and then I’m stuck.
I try a softer tone. “I think Papa wants me to go. He came to me in a dream tonight.”
“A dream is a wish your heart makes. It wasn’t really him.”
“Why won’t you help me!” I whine. “You’re my fairy godmother, that’s what you’re for!”
“I’m not your genie, honeybun. I’m here to look out for you. You know, fairies can’t see the future. Only shadows and suggestions. And something tells me this ball is bad news.”
“I still want to go.”
“Then give me a reason.”
“What?”
“Give me a reason to let you go.”
&n
bsp; I think about this. A reason. Something I can offer in exchange, like a bargain or deal. What does she want from me? What would be hard for me to give up?
My eyes fall to the crystal decanter standing on the flagstones and I curse inwardly.
“If you let me go to this ball,” I say slowly, “and if I fail to win the prince’s hand, I will give you back the white magic. And I’ll be good. Just for goodness’ sake.”
Godnutter lifts her frizzled eyebrows. “And,” she says, “if you fail, I will reverse the changes the white magic has wrought. You’ll be ordinary Cinderella again.”
Ordinary Cinderella. The crooked teeth. The slopey nose. The straw-colored hair. And who knows how big my feet will be? My stomach turns inside out just thinking about it.
“That or nothing, dumpling,” Godnutter says.
I grit my teeth - “Deal.” - then turn and drop my face in my hands. Oh Papa, what have I done?
Godnutter slaps my bottom and laughs. “Let’s get you to this ball, brat!”
~*~ 14 ~*~
Godnutter walks the length of the carriage, inspecting it. “Well, this looks fancy. The horses too. Must’ve taken a lot of the stuff, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” I grumble. You’d think I’d be happy but my good mood is gone. That was a hard bargain. Now I have to win the prince.
“No coachman though.” Godnutter looks up at the empty driver’s seat. “Huh. Go get that mouse over there.”
“What mouse?”
“The one in those weeds, beyond the yard!” She stands there, looking casually at the house, one arm lifting that blasted pipe to her mouth. And waits for me to find the mouse.
Does she think I’m an owl that can spot a tiny mouse in the dark? Ugh, I almost hate her. But I shuffle around the grass until I finally see it, hiding between some rocks. He must be sleepy or something because I have no trouble catching him. I carry him, wriggling and squeaking, back to Godnutter.
“Now put him down,” she says, bossy-like.
I set him down and he shoots off like lightning. Godnutter calmly removes the pipe from her mouth and waves the stem in circular motions. A stream of white sparkles flies from the tip to the mouse, and suddenly he springs up, tall and human and liveried. A driver.
Godnutter’s pipe is a magic wand. I did not see that coming.
The driver stands before us, silent and trembling. His quiet, dark eyes are the scariest things I’ve ever seen. To anyone else I guess he’ll look normal, even kind of handsome. But all I can think is, mouse. Mouse, mouse, a human mouse. That’s sick.
“Don’t be afraid, dear,” Godnutter speaks to him gently. “Just climb up to that seat, there’s a good boy. You’ll know what to do.”
The mouse-driver meekly obeys. I decide not to look at him anymore. I run to the wheel where my black cloth is standing and bring it back to Godnutter. “I need a ball gown!” I say breathily. I’m getting excited now, this is the best part.
Godnutter looks at the fabric, then at my face. “Black,” she says flatly.
“Yes, please.”
“A black dress.”
“Will you just do it?”
Godnutter exhales and her breath is pungent and stale. “Hold it over yourself.”
I let the fabric unroll, holding it from my shoulders like a sheet. Godnutter shakes her head, mutters “black” to herself, and then swivels the pipe stem around, scattering ashes out of the bowl.
A bright river of sparkles strikes the cloth, then swirls around me, and for a moment I’m lost in a hailstorm of light. My eyes are dazzled and I can’t see Godnutter. Something cool and slippery-soft wraps my waist and arms and back. The sparkles dissolve, drifting like snowflakes to the ground. I look down.
And gasp.
It’s more exquisite than I imagined. A luminous black ball gown, snug over my torso, then billowing out in a plush skirt. Layers cut over layers, the edges overlapping in long points that look like leaves. The collar dips low on my chest but rises high behind my neck in a spread of gauzy feathers. I look like a dark angel. A beautiful nightmare.
“Oh! Thank you, Fairy Godmother!” I take two steps toward her and my feet clink, clink on the cobblestones. I bend over and lift the hem of my skirt. My shoes! They’re made of crystal! Beautiful and twinkling, like the bottle of white magic. My pretty feet show through them, lifted up on high, slender heels. Crystal slippers. I’m so happy I could cry.
“Good gravy, can you even walk on those feet?” Godnutter looks horrified. “That’s too small, honey, you look deformed!”
I’m too ecstatic to let her bother me. “Thank you so much!” I swoop in and kiss her cheek. “This is everything I ever wanted!”
She pats my shoulder. “In that case, I failed you miserably. But never mind, off you go.” She snaps open the door of the carriage and I gather my skirt to climb inside. The seat is wonderfully soft. I turn and take hold of the open door, gripping the bottom edge of its window. “Wish me luck!” I grin at Godnutter.
“May it be the evening you deserve. Have fun and watch those feet. And by the way, I want you home at midnight.”
The smile drops right off my face. “Uh... what?”
“You heard me. Home at the stroke of twelve and not a second later.”
“What time is it now? Nearly ten?”
“That gives you two wonderful hours to win the prince’s heart. Good luck!”
“Why? Why midnight?”
Godnutter glowers at me. “Let’s just say I’ve noticed your evenings with men run a lot later than I approve of. I don’t want you misbehaving with this prince. And if you’re thinking of disobeying me,” she wags the pipe stem at me, “I have set the spell so everything that’s been enchanted will turn back to it’s true form at midnight. Even the things you put white magic on! You’ll have nothing but a pumpkin, two rats, a mouse, and a dowdy dress. So watch the clock or it could get quite embarrassing!”
I slam the door shut. “Drop dead, Godnutter!” I shout as the carriage begins to roll.
“I already did that!” she calls after me, following it with her nasty cackle. I look back and the spot where she stood is now vacant. But her crazy laugh lingers, chasing me into the night.
~*~ 15 ~*~
The carriage stops before the palace. The driver surprises me by hopping down and holding the door.
“Oh. Thank you.” I step down without looking at him. “Um... find a place to park. Then meet me here again at-” I groan “-quarter to midnight.” I tried to regain my excitement during the drive. But knowing you have less than two hours to get a marriage proposal from a prince you haven’t met or be doomed forever to mediocrity can be something of a downer.
The driver climbs back to his seat and flicks the reins. I’m glad he doesn’t speak – he’s creepy enough.
Oh my.... I’ve never been this close to the palace before. It’s impressive. Soaring walls of cream-colored stone. Lots of towers, some blunt and bulging, others slender and sky high. One of the central towers displays a massive clock with a dark face and shining gold hands. Twenty past ten. Oh dear....
I’m standing at the bottom of a huge, round staircase with steps that ripple down to me like rings in a pond. At the top, a massive set of double doors stands open, a cave of golden light. The swift, lifting notes of a waltz beckon to me from within.
I pinch my skirt and climb the stairs. No one stops me from walking right in. Two palace guards stand on either side of the doors but they just look at me. Or rather, at my dress. I suppress a smug smile. I knew black would be good.
A bright hallway stretches before me, leading to another pair of open doors. That must be the ballroom. My heart begins to float with the music I hear inside. I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe it.
My whole body quivers as I creep into the ballroom. Ohhh! This must be heaven. Because no man could create a place of such majestic wonder.
I’m at the top of another staircase, looking out over the ballroom. I never knew
one room could be so enormous. Hundreds of couples bobbing and swirling, like leaves twirled by the wind. A white marble floor so glossy it reflects the people upside-down in a kind of milky mirror. A vaulted ceiling, impossibly high, and painted all over with clouds and angels and rays of celestial light. Dark windows tall as trees, and chandeliers that dangle teardrops of crystal, dripping rainbows around the room. I do like crystal.
Resting my hand on the golden railing, I descend the staircase gently, not wanting to crack or break my fragile shoes. My dress slips down each step behind me, black over white. I catch several people staring up at me and I wear the expression I planned in the carriage: serene and slightly cold. I want to look mysterious.
My foot has barely touched the floor when I find no less than four men surrounding me. Three young men and one older, all smiling. “Good evening, my lady,” says a man in the middle. “Would you care to dance?”
“No, allow me, my lady, I can introduce you-”
“Hey, I saw her first!” a third man cries.
Ugh. The allurement enhancement. I should have been more specific, said it was for the prince only. This means a lot of men are going to give me trouble.
“Excuse me,” I say firmly and skirt around them.
I’ve taken only a few more steps when something grabs my attention more than the grandeur surrounding me. A smell. Faint but distinct, the aroma of roasted chicken.
Oh my goodness. I’m starving!
When did I eat last? I remember grabbing a hunk of dry bread before I ran out to fetch my stepsisters’ dancing shoes. In the past three days I’ve had almost as little food as sleep. But now that I remember food exists, I feel like I’ll die if I don’t get some right now.
But – I look for a clock and don’t see one – I don’t have time to eat. I have to find the prince.
Still, the smell leads me onward, around the dancers and along the wall, where clumps of hopeful mothers watch from the sidelines. I’ll just have a little something. A quick bite. It’ll give me a minute to make my plans and then I’ll get to work.
